


All The (Right) Places

by uowen



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Choi San is Whipped, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Living Together, Love/Hate, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Room, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, choi san is the reason i have trust issues tbh, dance teacher wooyoung, everyone ships it, finding yourself, idol choi san, so many tropes becuz im weak like that :p
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2019-11-06 18:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 66,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uowen/pseuds/uowen
Summary: San, a member of the famous idol group Ateez, has gotten into a dating scandal and is taking a break from idol duties by going back to his hometown to teach the local kids how to sing and dance at an arts school. There, he meets Jung Wooyoung, a dance teacher and BTS fan who dislikes San a lot.AU in which San is an idol and Wooyoung is a dance teacher.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was partly inspired by Choi San himself cuz wow he totally deceived me?? I saw that sweet boy with Shiber and then the Hala Hala music show performances attacked me??? Like??? Someone possessed him?? But anyway in this fic there are a lot of rumors about him being a total terrible guy but…….. they’re just that, rumors. He’s definitely gonna be a nice guy in this story lmao.

The lights in the dance room flickered off as he ran a hand through sweaty hair. It was late, nearing 1 in the morning, and the room was sweltering in the Spring heat. He hadn’t expected to stay out so late in the building but—the music had been blaring so loudly, he must’ve disregarded the janitor coming in to pick up the nightly trash. 

Shrugging on his backpack, he exited the darkened room, letting the door close with a snap. The hallway was lit alive by only one dingy lamp that a student had probably left on hours ago when class had ended. The arts academy was a run down building, with little to no funding, and so this was technically all they could afford at the moment. Sadly. 

The little village was rather small too, with a neighborhood, and a few shops scattered here and there, with no tourists whatsoever to impress with the farm lands in abundance and the wild forest at the edge of town. You could even say the arts academy was the last new thing the place had resurrected. The nearest hospital was actually a half hour long drive too. They were, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere. 

Wooyoung turned off the lamp, reminiscing. 

He’d been teaching dance at this academy for well over two years now, leaving his hometown and family to spread his passion to kids who were at a disadvantage so far out of Seoul. It was a tiring job, and his back hurt like hell, but it was amazing what the progress of only two years could do for some students. He was proud. 

He shouldered his backpack once more and swung the dance room keys on his index finger, eyeing the water-stained ceilings resolutely, whilst whistling what must’ve been DNA. That choreography had been hard, but it was going to be a lot harder trying to teach the kids the first few steps without them falling all over one another. 

Absent-mindedly, he dropped his bag to the floor in order to pass and reach across the receptionist desk to turn off the remaining lights. It indeed appeared that he was the last teacher in the building. It was somewhat creepy, but also relaxing in a weird way. 

He half expected to meet Yunho still practicing in the second room, but what with finals and deadlines, he knew he was also exhausted helping these kids go on to graduate with outstanding grades, which, was something he should’ve done when he was young as well. 

Behind, he pushed the front door open, letting it close on its own, knowing full well that the janitors were still in there, and that they would eventually lock it when they were done. 

Quietly, he smiled. 

The alleyway outside was just as dark as the building, but with a flickering yellow street light instead of a lamp. Soon, he realized, he’d have to leave the town to go back to Seoul, in order to find extra work elsewhere, or even find work there, in the populated city. Despite enjoying his work in the small towns, he found that his bank account had been dropping . . . _dramatically_. He needed money in order to help people, right? 

He walked on in the direction of lights in the distance. His landlord, and big supporter and donor, had ensured the school that his son would donate a large amount of money but—Wooyoung found that he personally couldn’t take any of it, not when he knew the school had to keep every last cent. 

The guy was someone he’d lived with for a year, and was maybe the age of his own father? He owned a taekwondo studio in the town, which was connected to the house they both lived in. But honestly, in all the time he’d stayed under the man’s roof, he’d never heard him mention his son, much less one that was filthy rich and Wooyoung’s age? He must’ve been some businessman in Seoul. 

All he’d ever seen in that house was baby pictures of a boy who was now at the age of 28, just like him. Maybe they didn’t get along? But then again he’d heard gossip from one group of older ladies that the boy had been sent to live with his grandparents in Seoul when he was young. 

Gossip really was _annoying_. 

Wooyoung breathed out, watching as he neared his favorite bar in town, still open. It was Friday night, therefore it would be open for quite a while, thankfully. He was fucking hungry.

# ________

“You’re gonna be whipped. Plain and simple.” 

Yunho was smiling knowingly at him, holding his second beer up in the air. The bar was pretty dead, with only them and a few elders who had chosen to stick around for the sake of making their Friday night a little fun. The bar tender was in the back, Wooyoung could hear him talking to the late night delivery man. All was peaceful. Sort of. 

He gave up and sighed into his unfinished plate of food, and instead chose to take a swig of his own beer, thinking to himself that maybe a bit of Soju wouldn’t hurt him either. (It probably would). 

“Maybe I like them, maybe I don’t.” He shrugged, eyes reverting back to the harsh glow of the man’s phone screen. They’d been discussing Yunho’s latest and favorite group at the moment. They were called Ateez, he thinks? He couldn’t remember. 

Wooyoung pushed the phone away when Yunho had scrolled past a familiar face. It was a face that’d been all over the news, specifically Dispatch. That idol, he forgot his name, was a member of Ateez. The one with the dating scandal. 

Yunho raised a brow. For the last hour, he’d been trying to get Wooyoung into stanning the group, but with no luck. They’d been friends ever since he arrived in the small town, and even before when they were both in Seoul. 

Jeong Yunho was an ex-trainee turned professional dance mentor, choreographer and teacher. Upon being convinced by Wooyoung, he’d agreed to staying in the small town on occasion to help around the school. The man was literally a godsend. 

“So . . . you're whipped for them, right?” Yunho nudged the phone at him again, exhibiting that Aries trait of impatience. 

He sent a small glare in the direction of the older, “They’ve got killer dance moves. I’ll give you that—” 

“Aw c’mon,” The man flicked a finger over the profiles of each member, and then stopped to show Wooyoung. “You have to pick a bias, at least.” 

“I’m not ready to stan a group with a bad scandal.” Wooyoung admitted, sipping his beer. 

Yunho grimaced, and then nodded softly, “But that’s just San . . .” 

“He lied about dating, and he apparently had an affair with another girl group member?” He questioned, “I can’t do that.” 

“Those are rumors,” Yunho smiled sheepishly at him and set his phone down. The image of the well-known idol had remained staring at him. It didn’t help the situation. 

“I’m happy keeping one ultimate group. That's it.” He replied with finality. 

His friend placed his head on the table dramatically. He must’ve been going crazy. He knew Wooyoung was never one to give in easily. A Sagittarius trait he actually admired in himself. 

And it was true, he didn’t want any part of a group who’d held rumors. He figured it was solely because they were becoming popular, very fast, and thus with the flood of new fans, it was inevitable that it would become like this but—

He just had way too many things he needed to worry about, and a dating scandal over an idol he would never meet was just not on his list of priorities. Maybe he was getting old? The excitement of stanning a new group was fading. 

Yunho gave up at that point, turning his phone off and getting rid of that famous face to check the time on his lockscreen. They’d been in there for two hours. It was now 3. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, both knowing that their persistent attitudes had been at an all time high with the alcohol and the late time. They were also tired as hell. 

“Did the boss tell you about the donor?” Yunho said, out of the blue at one point. 

Wooyoung didn’t bother to turn around, “What about him?” 

Yunho tilted his head to get a better look at him. There must’ve been something a little more to this ‘donor’ thing than he knew. Was he going to be out of a job sooner than he thought? 

He glanced at his friend wearily, “Is there something I should know?” 

The taller man made a face, as if he did in fact know something. “Just heard he’s gonna come to the school to look over some things.” 

“Look over some things?” He asked. That got his attention. 

If some rich businessman was coming to the school to make sure it was his money’s worth, then that meant they’d have to work harder in order to impress him. They needed that money, bad. 

Yunho slid his empty beer away, “You heard he’s the son of—” 

“Yeah, yeah,” He waved him off, “But what exactly do we need to do about this?” 

Yunho gave him a shrug, “That’ll depend on what he wants, doesn’t it?” 

Wooyoung bit his lip, thinking. Why couldn’t donors just send the money in a nice envelope and then leave it at that? Why did they have to come and actually meet them? He was simply complaining, though then again it was already 3. He was tired. 

A few elders behind them rose to bid them goodnight. Wooyoung and Yunho stood to bow as they departed, and then stared at one another for a second. 

As soon as Wooyoung left the town, Yunho would too. They were always in the market for a job. Any job. It was a hard world out there, especially for dancers. 

Yunho clasped a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, sensing the tension that had enveloped in him, “How bad can the guy be?” 

“I’ve seen this before,” Wooyoung told him. 

He had seen this many times over. He’d been a teacher ever since leaving college, and thus he’d been in the midst of schools just like this one, in dire need of money, and with donors willing to see if they were indeed worthy of the money they were offering. Wooyoung had had enough of begging, but . . . what else could he do? 

The older smiled warmly at him. “He can’t be as bad as Choi San, right?” 

“I thought you said it was just a rumor?” Wooyoung tested, sitting back down. 

Yunho slid a few bills of money on the bar counter, “It is.” He pointed a finger at him. Wooyoung pushed it away, “But compared to handling Dispatch, this’ll be a piece of cake for us.” 

Wooyoung stared into his empty glass, wondering if things would go as easily as his friend was suggesting. He couldn’t help but worry. “Don’t know . . .” 

They fell into a silence again, until Yunho checked his phone once more. Wooyoung raised a brow at the image of the man on his lockscreen. He hadn’t realized it before. 

Yunho must’ve recognized his judgmental stare, “What? I admire his dancing.” 

“That’s Mingi, right? That’s his name, _right_?” Wooyoung grabbed and shoved the phone in his friend’s face. A laugh escaped his lips. “It’s Mingi. I’m right. Right? I can’t believe he’s your fucking lockscreen—” 

Yunho swiped the phone from him, setting it facedown, “ _Dancing_. I admire his _dancing_ , Wooyoungie.” 

“Sure, his _dancing_. Sure.” Wooyoung checked his own phone, watching as the minute flickered. “I can’t believe I actually remembered a member’s name,” He muttered. 

“You’re nearly whipped.” Yunho said, whispering loudly. 

Wooyoung punched his arm gently. For some reason, he felt slightly better. But it was probably due to the fact that Yunho was a total dork. And of course the alcohol and lack of sleep, including the excessive practice. It was all getting to his anxiety, and his head. 

The whole donor deal was definitely making him worried, though with the help of the community, it was possible they would be getting a fair amount. Plus, wasn’t he the son of his landlord? The reputation this mystery man had around town wasn’t good but— 

Maybe he’d end up being a nice guy. 

Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Comments are dearly appreciated!! <3  
> *Also please let me know if I’ve made any mistakes!! <3


	2. Chapter 2

There was a thickness in the room that remained prominent throughout the day, up until he’d had enough and eventually gave in to have a small ‘talk’ with his leader. The frenzy in the company building had been adding up ever since the news came about. It wasn’t exactly great, but for some reason everyone was dealing with it smoothly. 

It was pretty late in the evening, and even his manager had departed for a good night's rest. Everyone had been laboring day and night over the matter of the scandal that’d enveloped in a mere two weeks. No one had slept comfortably, not even the president. 

And he knew it was his fault that the whole ordeal had grown into chaos. Apparently one couldn’t make friends without enemies, and one couldn’t rely on other people with secrecy. He’d learned it the hard way, and found that dating was the last thing he ever wanted to do for a long time. 

It wasn’t like they’d dated at all. Sure they had hung out, but one picture could tell a million things, and one selfish person seeking publicity could take it all out of context. He wasn’t a bad guy, really, despite what his onstage presence said. The newspapers had gotten it wrong, and it was all his fault. Now, everyone he knew was suffering from this mistake greatly. He felt like shit. 

That was why Hongjoong had seated himself in front of him, hands folded over his lap, sighing deeply with what was probably exhaustion. Other than San, the one that’d been affected the most by this scandal was his leader. 

He personally always felt it was the member’s duties to never let their leader down, much less place any more weight on the man. He hated what he’d done to his precious friend, but there was nothing he could do but let the rumors strain out until no one cared. That was what Hongjoong had told him when it was just starting. 

The older man ran a hand through his hair, sighing. He was never one to reveal how tired he was. This was extremely profound to him, and upsetting. “San . . .” 

“I know.” He said, lowly. He bit his lip, thinking a mile a minute. 

They’d already agreed that it was best to push back their new comeback for another few months. It was frustrating as hell, practicing the new dance for weeks, only to find an article on Dispatch that had claimed he was two-timing a few girl group members. Honestly, he laughed at the headline. 

Hongjoong looked at him in the eye, stare prominent, “Are you sure about—?” 

“I have to go home.” San admitted. “ _Home_ , home. Not to my grandparents. I can’t place this burden on them right now in their age.” 

His leader nodded, understanding. “Okay.” 

San looked up at him, watching as the time on the clock behind him ticked on, signifying how late in the evening it was becoming. It was too late to do anything but go back home to his mom and dad. He couldn’t stand to be in Seoul anymore. Plus it was best to leave under the cover of night. 

He’d miss his members, a lot, though staying with them would only draw more problems. He only wished this was a sign for a much needed break. They’d been a group for more than five years now, with endless comebacks and promotions. The scandal only increased their exhaustion. They were at their limit. 

But still, he couldn’t help but feel guilty at halting their new song. 

“We’ll miss you.” Hongjoong said, laughing slightly. “And we’re gonna go visit you in a few weeks.” 

“Hyung . . .” He was about to complain, but the determined look in the older man’s eyes cut his response short. There was no doubt they’d visit. They were surely going to embarrass him in front of his family and town. 

Hongjoong sat back, arm draped against his recording equipment. They were sitting in his studio, waiting until most of the staff had left. “But, you’re sure you’ll be okay out there?” 

He shrugged, “Just a couple weeks teaching kids. Doesn’t sound bad at all.” 

“As soon as you get back, we’re dropping that new song.” Hongjoong said, though it sounded more like an order. He most likely wanted to keep him distracted from everything that was happening. San was grateful for that. “Hey, maybe you’ll find someone to settle down with while you’re there—” 

He made a face, “Getting married to scare off the press? No fucking way.” 

His leader snickered, “What? That’ll shut everyone up.” 

“But I’m not willing to date anyone. Ever.” He said with finality. The idea of dating now was terrible. A literal feeling of dread filled his stomach whenever he thought about it. It sucked how much the press could affect him in this way. “I don’t even wanna think about it.” 

“Then make sure you come back ready.” Hongjoong leaned forward, hands clasped. “No distractions. No more rumors to fuck with us. Everything will be better in the end. Just watch.” 

San sat back, eyes wandering the room. He hoped for peace, honestly. And if Hongjoong believed it could be achieved, then San sure as hell felt the same way. He just needed to lay low. And since his dad had already asked him to consider donating to the arts academy in his hometown, he figured it was better to actually go there himself and teach a class. The principal was more than happy to greet him again. 

He nodded, “Yeah. I’ll be ready soon.” 

Hongjoong smiled at him reassuringly. “Good.” 

There had to be a way to not let any more people down. Therefore, dating was out of the question. His fans had begged him to relax, to take a break, and so that was what he was going to do.

# ________

The practice room lights were partially on, with only half of them illuminating the empty room. San had gone back to collect his phone charger. It was something he did every damn time. His forgetfulness was going to get him into trouble one day. 

And honestly, it seemed liked it’d come too quickly. Because the rest of the lights flickered on above him at one point, revealing a very, very tall figure walking towards him, arms outstretched and smiling broadly at him. A backback hung on one shoulder of the approaching man. Obviously, he was getting ready for a trip. 

Mingi’s smile never faded as San continued to look on with a face of dread. Had Hongjoong set this up? Had they both planned to ruin San’s somewhat vacation? 

He let his head fall, sighing deeply at the sight of his member. “Don’t tell me . . .” 

“I’m coming with you.” Mingi exclaimed excitedly. Much too excitedly for his taste. 

Yup. He was correct. Those two were clearly planning on ruining his once in a lifetime opportunity to rest. Who else was going to join them? Jongho? 

The younger’s smile didn’t fade. If anything, it looked like he was enjoying watching San’s inner turmoil grow. “What?” Not happy I’m coming?” 

“Your ass is not coming back home with me.” He stated clearly. 

Mingi waved him off, “Aw c’mon hyung. It’s not like I’m gonna go there just to hear your embarrassing childhood stories . . .” 

He rolled his eyes, “Who set you up to this?” 

His friend feigned shock, holding a hand to his chest, “You dare accuse us of plotting—?” 

“It was Jongho’s idea, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah it was his idea.” Mingi admitted, laughing to himself. 

San gave up, again. There was no point in arguing with any of them. They did say that they were going to pay him a visit. And they had been his friends since trainee days, so it was pretty inevitable that they would get to know about his childhood. 

But seriously? Mingi? Of all people, Mingi was the one who was going to accompany him back home? Why couldn’t it have been Seonghwa? At least Seonghwa was responsible enough to act like an adult . . . sometimes. 

Mingi jutted a thumb to the door, “We better get going. The car’s here already.” 

“I know.” San gripped his own backpack strap, swinging his phone charger in his hands. “I was the one who called for the car in the first place.” 

“See? We make a great team.” Mingi flung an arm around him. San didn’t even bother to shrug it off. He was going to be taking this annoying younger member with him back home, and it didn’t seem as if Mingi was going to give up even if San tried to stop him. 

San rolled his eyes at nothing in particular, and turned off the practice room lights on their way out. 

He should’ve just bought a new charger on the way home.

# ________

It must’ve been half past 3 in the morning once they departed the bar. Yunho was talking in his ear, continuing on a lecture on how his current favorite group had sold out their first world tour as rookies, as well as how that same group had won rookie of the year. 

It was all well and good, but Wooyoung couldn’t help but let the feeling of dislike sit in his stomach. He’d stanned groups who were problematic before. Though it took a great deal of time to do that. With this group called _Ateez_ , he figured that maybe disliking Choi San for a while would have to just be a thing he’d have to deal with, for the sake of his friend. 

And though he didn’t know the man, it was clear that he was controversial. Judging from the many articles and photos circulating the web, Wooyoung had had enough of what the man had done. Honestly, he hoped he’d never cross paths with him once he got back to Seoul. The mere image of that happening made him feel sick. 

But Yunho continued to talk, as if he didn’t have a care in the world as to what that man had caused. Maybe it was because Yunho refused to believe them? Yunho had indeed been a fan longer. Maybe he knew the man more than most people, just like their dedicated fanbase? 

That still didn’t convince Wooyoung though. Headlines like those never did seem to entice him into actually supporting groups. 

Yunho knocked his shoulder against his, most likely a bit drunk on the beer they’d had moments ago. It was time to sleep. They were fucking tired. 

“There are some dances they performed pre-debut.” Yunho tapped at his phone, shouldering his bag higher, “I’ll send them to you tonight.” 

He prevented himself from rolling his eyes, “Didn’t I just say—?” 

“You’ll love it.” His friend assured him, “They’re dancing kings.” 

“Whatever.” He stated flatly. 

Being ‘dancing kings’ was not enough to make him want to stan. He had work to deal with too. He didn’t have to deal with groups who had problematic members. 

Yunho must’ve noticed this, because he knocked his shoulder on his a little harder this time. Wooyoung complained, but was cut off short, “Hey, Dispatch is crap, okay? Let’s ignore it for a while.” 

Wooyoung stared at his friend blankly for a moment, and then sighed. He ran a hand through his matted fringe, “Fine.” 

“You heading home then?” He asked. 

He nodded, but stopped suddenly. Like the many times before, he’d felt as if he had forgotten something. It must’ve been his phone charger, again. 

Quickly, he patted the front zipper of his gym bag, and exhaled. “I left my charger in the dance room.” 

“They close the academy over the weekend,” Yunho reminded him. 

“I know.” Wooyoung turned on his heel, eyeing the dark building behind them. The janitors were surely nearly done with their work. He could just slip in and take it before they officially locked up for the night. 

The town was barren, with little to no shops that sold actual iPhone chargers. He couldn’t survive without it, so—he had to go back and get it. 

Just how many times had this happened? 

“Dammit.” He cursed under his breath. “I’m gonna go get it.” 

“M’kay, goodnight.” Yunho did a little wave at him whilst Wooyoung threw a small glare. Did his friend have no empathy? Well, he probably didn’t when he was drunk. 

He kicked the ground as he headed in the direction of the school, hurrying his pace so that he could arrive on time. He turned one last time to Yunho, “See you tomorrow?” 

Yunho called from the distance, “Yeah, tomorrow!” 

Wooyoung gripped his backpack, now running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *when will u two finally meet & talk ?!  
> *I'm stuck between Seonghwa/Yeosang and Seonghwa/Hongjoong :3 I luv em both :p Who do u ship??? I'm curious :)
> 
> *Comments are dearly appreciated!! <3  
> *Also please let me know if I’ve made any mistakes!! <3


	3. Chapter 3

They’d passed the wide green fields on the way back to his old home. It was pretty late in the evening, or—really early in the morning, considering it was already going to be 4. There was a darkness over everything, except for the slightest hint of blue coming in from the looming moon above their car. 

Their manager had left them behind a few miles ago to depart to his own hometown for his vacation. So in the end it was Mingi who took the driver’s seat whilst San groggily told him which direction to take at each intersection. 

Surprisingly, he’d remembered the way back home, even though it must’ve been at least three years since his last visit. He usually frequented his grandparents’ home, because coming back home was a lot more costly and far. 

He felt bad, honestly, for not paying them a visit as much as he should’ve, though he had a good excuse. Idol life had been dominating his world forever, literally. He hadn’t received any breaks aside from reality shows with his group, as well as world tours. 

Those weren’t real vacations though. Vacations meant he could lay back and enjoy living without being under the lens of a Dispatch camera. Hopefully, coming home meant just that, leaving behind his idol life for one where he could breathe a little more. 

Mingi peered at him through the mirror and slipped a small smile, “You look dead.” 

“Wow, thanks.” He muttered. He’d been laying back in his seat, watching as the familiar buildings whooshed past them in a blur. They’d be getting there sooner than expected, surprisingly. It usually took him three hours to get home, but Mingi was a great driver, plus there was no traffic at 4 AM. 

His friend sat forward, “But really, there’s literally nothing out here.” 

“What did you expect? A resort?” He rolled over on his side. All they needed now was to head forward and find the nearest Taekwondo studio. He’d instructed the man in great detail. 

“No.” Mingi let the car slow down as they entered the small village road. Everything was closed. “I’m expecting some baby pictures though.” 

“Fuck no.” San wanted to glare at him, though his eyes had fallen closed with drowsiness. Just the thought of meeting his parents again after the scandal was taking a toll on him, mentally and physically. What would they say? 

The taller man laughed airily, switching off the high beams. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

# ________

Wooyoung jogged back to the house he was currently staying at. Luckily, the janitors hadn’t left, and thus he’d gotten his phone charger easily. Yunho must’ve been long gone by then, but he knew he would see the man in the morning. 

Well, maybe in the afternoon. Since it was the weekend, he figured sleeping in was the best thing to do. Finals week was coming in a matter of weeks, and with the donor paying a visit to the school, it was most likely going to be chaotic. 

Thankfully, the family he was renting from was rather quiet. Even the Taekwondo studio had been bearable, since there were hardly any students anymore, according to his landlord. So, all in all it was a nice place to stay. 

In the beginning, when he was first starting out with teaching, he’d tried to rent actual apartments, but they’d all ended up being pretty costly. It was better to take advantage of his bright and social personality by actually living with the locals of these towns. Therefore it became a sort of tradition to stay in a family’s home. 

What made him anxious though, was the fact that they already had a son. Wooyoung was, at the moment, staying in that man’s old bedroom. If he was going to show up to donate money to the school, then where was he going to stay? On the couch? In a hotel nearby? Was it disrespectful to do that? Was the man older than him? 

Yunho had rented out an apartment close to the arts academy. Maybe Wooyoung could crash there? Were there even hotels close by to this village? 

He should’ve thought of all of this when he was actually speaking to him. Now, he was going to have to wait on the matter until tomorrow afternoon. 

Resigned, he sighed. 

This ‘donor’ was already trouble, and he hadn’t even arrived! 

For some reason, he held a bad feeling in his stomach. And sure, he’d felt that way before (this was a tough job), but shouldn’t he have known the man first before jumping to conclusions? But then again that made him look like a hypocrite. Especially when he was quick to judge that one idol— 

What was his name again? Kang? Sana? Kim . . .? He couldn’t even remember the man’s face from earlier. The booze was definitely what had made him forget. It was also making him sleepy. God, he needed a bed asap. 

Wooyoung hooked a thumb beneath his bag strap. It’d been digging into his shoulder all the way from the dance room. His body felt heavy. 

Literally nothing could stop him from collapsing onto his soft bed and knocking the fuck out. Except—

When he arrived on the street of the house, there was a sleek black car there. It almost reminded him of an Uber black. Very fancy. Very expensive. Very unlike the cars seen in the town. 

Maybe that son of his was back? But he didn’t care. That guy was going to have to sleep on the couch, and in the morning he was gonna have to find someplace else to stay, because Wooyoung wasn’t willing to give up his sanctuary whilst he was slightly tipsy. 

Though he would probably do it for a couple hundred dollars. They said the man was rich, correct? He was a businessman, correct? Or was he incorrect? 

He walked forward, ignoring his assumptions. His eyes drooped in sleepiness. 

Was he even going to make it to the front door?

# ________

Greeting his father was probably the hardest thing he’d had to do in a while. His dad grown a lot older since he’d seen him. He looked healthy, thankfully, though he wished he’d seen his mother as well, but she was fast asleep. He would have to see her in the morning. 

And the place was just as he left it. It was a small home, very comfortable, with furniture that he’d seen over and over again throughout the years. The same pictures stood framed on the mantel and on the walls, displaying his life. 

He watched as he walked past the hallway, catching a glimpse at what he used to be. The small boy in those photos was bright, full of energy, ready to take on anything in the world. He was still like that, but a lot taller. 

It made him choke up somewhat. Seeing pictures of himself that weren’t beneath a terrible headline. Instead, these pictures of him, with his family, his mom and dad, his grandparents and childhood friends, pictures of his debut photos—they all made him smile, even though he felt like passing out from exhaustion. 

Mingi was right behind him, carrying his own luggage. Apparently, his friend thought there was going to be enough space for the both of them in his room. He was completely upset though, when they actually stepped foot in it. 

The taller man gave him a look as San flicked on the bedroom light. It must’ve been the smallest room in the house. There were three rooms in total: his parent’s room, his own room, and a guest bedroom that had been filled to the brim with storage boxes. Mingi would just have to sleep on the couch. 

“Hyung, I can’t even stand in this room without falling.” Mingi didn’t dare step in again, for the sake of keeping everything intact. The man was taller than the ceiling.

San surveyed the room, ignoring his friend. 

The place looked . . . different. His father hadn’t told him anything before going to bed. Had they re-organized some things while he was away? But it appeared as if some of the items in the room didn’t even belong to him. 

For example, the bed was undone, and the sheets were spread out and on the floor, much like someone had rolled out of bed without folding the blankets. There was even a cup of cold coffee and a copy of Pride & Prejudice on the nightstand, with a blue clock that didn’t belong to him. Was there a hermit currently living in their home? Well, he didn’t care. He would have to sleep before worrying about that. 

Mingi nudged him on the shoulder, “Uh . . .? What’s wrong?” 

“It—it looks different.” He admitted, throwing his bag onto the bed. 

“Well it looks fine to me—” His friend began, but he cut him off. 

“Couch.” San pointed back to the living room. 

Mingi gave him a look of betrayal, “This is what living in a dorm for five years has done to us?” 

“Yes, now leave.” He hurriedly said. He was tired. 

“The bed’s big enough for two—” 

“Couch.” San said, again. 

Mingi shot him a smile full of mirth. He knew the man was joking about sleeping in the same room. He was most likely trying to catch a glimpse of what his bedroom was like. The baby pictures in the hallway didn’t help either. He had a feeling the younger man was going to send the rest of his group members photos of him in his diapers before going to bed. 

San expected that, but at the same time he was now feeling grateful that his friend had tagged along. Facing his parents alone was a thing he was terrified of. So having company was gonna be great when it came to settling his nerves. Having his familiar face around was also a good way to hold onto the world he needed to go back to, eventually. 

And Mingi was also going to be great help when it came to teaching at the school. They needed to keep a low profile, but San couldn’t miss the opportunity to give the kids a chance to train with two professionals. The principal had already assured him that this would all be kept confidential. Most of the staff had even signed to keep their secrecy. 

Mingi exhaled, appearing as tired as he felt, “Fine, you win. I’m taking the couch.” 

“There are blankets in the closet at the end of the hallway.” San stepped into the room and sat at the edge of his bed whilst Mingi stumbled into the hall once more. “The bathroom’s on the left.” 

His friend did a small wave, “Got it.” 

San laid back, watching the ceiling, but then got up again quickly, “And don’t take any pictures of my—” 

Mingi peeked from around the corner, displaying his phone in the air, “Don’t take any pics of your baby pictures? Like this?” He scrolled through an album of San in his kindergarten days. 

“Goddammit.” He threw a pillow at the man, but received only a faint echo of laughter as his friend departed back to the living room. 

There had to be some way to delete those pictures off his phone.

# ________

Wooyoung shut the door behind him silently. The house was completely dark, with no lights on whatsoever. It was also quiet too. They all must’ve been asleep then. 

He had grown used to walking around the house, and so finding his way through the dark was no issue. He recognized where the coffee table was, and where the television was located. The small green glow of the stove clock also loomed from where he stood. 

What he hadn’t expected though, was to find a huge form on the living room couch. A soft breathing came from that general direction too, which indicated that someone must’ve been fast asleep there. 

Wooyoung did have the decency to tip-toe around the sleeping individual, but not without silently cursing at what was probably the family’s distant son. It wasn’t nice, though that was how he felt at the moment. At least he hadn’t taken Wooyoung’s bedroom. At least. 

He regarded the place as he continued to search the dark, hands on the walls, feeling the familiar metal photograph frames hanging in abundance. He’d seen those pictures everyday, of the small bubbly boy in diapers and overalls. He wondered, sometimes, if the man in those photos had changed dramatically. At times, he would’ve known, had he paid more attention to the photos of the man in his teenage years. 

Some part of him felt he couldn’t, though. It felt all too personal, and he hadn’t wanted his curiosity to disrupt the peace he had made with the very sweet people who owned the home. 

And so he slipped past the sleeping man, keeping in mind that maybe he wouldn’t be so bad as to wake him up. But a tipsy Wooyoung held confidence, and maybe a little attitude, thus it was good they were both at the hands of sleep. He would have to hold his tongue in the meantime.

He rubbed his eyes as he made it to his room. The door was slightly open, surprisingly, he hadn’t remembered closing it at all earlier. He liked keeping things open, which wasn’t a very good idea, but he did it anyway. Maybe the old man had been looking for something in the closet? 

He ignored it because, you know, he was tired as fuck. He also silently thanked the heavens for making this place so small. He felt like he could’ve literally fallen asleep on the living room floor. But with that man there, it proved to be too impossible. Plus, his bed was pretty comfy. 

Tiredly, he threw his gym bag onto the floor without much regard to the noise, and kneeled to plug his phone charger by the nightstand, holding his phone flashlight up to help his process. 

What caught his eye immediately throughout this, was the fact that there was a charger already in the slot that looked exactly like his. 

Was he daydreaming? Had he fallen asleep already? 

Choosing to ignore it all, he plugged his phone in and tossed it onto the nightstand, allowing the screen to illuminate the darkness of the room slightly. 

That was when he froze. 

He could’ve sworn there was another lump on his bed, just like on the living room couch. And there was breathing too, faint breathing, as if someone was sleeping on his bed . . .? 

Wooyoung grabbed his phone, switching on the flashlight once more and then glaring, because indeed there was someone asleep, completely wrapped in _his_ covers, concealing his face behind _his_ pillow. 

This was unfair. Totally unfair. This was exactly what he had not wanted. He was tired, for goodness sake. And he just couldn’t handle this family having two obnoxiously rich sons. 

Two? They only ever mentioned one. Unless the old man had been the one sleeping on the couch? Was this even the son? Or was this an intruder? 

Well if it was an intruder, then he had to do something about it. 

“Hey, intruder.” He called out to the sleeping man, tugging at the blankets. This was his room. He had paid in advance for it. So technically he had reign over it. “Get off of my bed.”

# ________

San shifted in his sleep, because he swore he heard someone looking through his bedroom. If he had a clear mind, he most likely would’ve voiced his thoughts aloud. It was probably Mingi trying to find more stuff to embarrass him with. That was fine, but he wanted to sleep. 

He peered over his shoulder, eyes blurry with sleep. For a second, in a flash of light, he saw the outline of a young man on the floor, but then that same man rose and surveyed the room. San gave up, believing it was in fact Mingi. 

And he had tried to fall back asleep under his pillows, though that young man had spoken to him, and it was a light voice, very unlike his friend’s deep voice. 

San refused to get up, until the voice became a little louder. 

“Intruder, this is my last warning.” The light voice scolded. San believed the guy was trying to sound threatening, though was failing at it miserably. “I’m tired and I wanna go to bed.” The man must’ve been pouting. He could hear it in his words. 

Then suddenly, the lights switched on, and he cowered from their harsh glow. Never did he believe that light would be the cause of his death, but it really felt like it at that moment. 

The sheets he’d been wrapped up in were suddenly pulled away from him as well, exposing him to the cool morning air. He hadn’t even bothered to change into his pajamas. He was still wearing his ripped black jeans and button-up white shirt. 

Thankfully, all grew quiet when he rolled over onto his side, hands rubbing his face as he tried to find the strength to look at his perpetrator. 

The man mumbled something, which encouraged San to reply, finally, “ _What_ . . .?” He asked groggily. 

That stranger stepped back, whilst San gazed up at him, taking in the appearance of the intruder. It definitely wasn’t Mingi. 

A young man, probably his age, (shorter?) glared back at him. 

San merely kept his eyes on the individual, wondering if maybe he was still dreaming. 

“You’re in _my_ bed.” He told San, crossing his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I'm so sorry it's taking forever for them to interact :") (this slow burn is killing me!!) I promise there will be bed sharing and cute bickering in the next chapter lol !!! <3
> 
> *Comments are dearly appreciated!! <3  
> *Also please let me know if I’ve made any mistakes!! <3


	4. Chapter 4

He stared, slightly bewildered. 

There was a guy he didn’t know, standing in his bedroom, claiming that this bed was _his_ , and acting as if San was the intruder in all of this. He was definitely still dreaming. Also, he had never remembered growing up with anyone who looked like him. Unless his friends had changed dramatically? No, this was a complete stranger in his house, and his father never even told him about it. 

His dad was strange, well—San was too, at times, but at least he would’ve had the nerve to remember to tell him that there was someone already staying in his room. Or was the man an intruder? But then how could San explain all of the stuff in the room that he knew wasn’t there the last time he visited? 

And the guy, still with his hands on his hips, was giving him the biggest pout he’d ever seen in his life. He couldn’t blame him, not when it was 4 AM and both of them appeared tired as hell. San must’ve looked like a complete mess. And the stranger at the door did as well, with his matted, sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and wrinkled clothes. 

San held up his hand, begging for a moment to wake up a little more. It was fairly obvious the guy wanted him to leave. But where? Mingi had the couch, the living room floor was cold, and he couldn’t just make himself fit on his own floor. It was too small. 

So he figured the next best thing was to kick this guy out instead. One, because this was technically San’s room first. Two, because, yeah, he had claimed the bed before this guy. 

The individual with the prominent pout, jutting his lower lip out in anger, waited for him to speak. Thankfully, San was good at not getting any sleep (idol life was such a healthy lifestyle, huh?), so he was quick to give the guy what he wanted. 

“I’m the son, _here_.” For emphasis, he spread his arms out, showcasing that ‘here’ meant his family’s home. “And . . . who are you?” 

The visibly upset man answered, “I’m currently renting this room out, so, you have to leave.” 

“Pardon?” San squinted at him. The light was still harsh on his eyes. 

“Leave.” The man said, impatiently. 

He tried not to laugh at how serious the guy was. The tension in the room had thickened so quickly, he couldn’t believe it. He generally got along with people because, well, that was what he was supposed to do in his job, though this guy was proving to be difficult. 

Giving up slightly, he aimed for a smile, but that was quickly shut down by the deepening pout of the young man waiting for him to leave. San couldn’t win. 

“Okay, you’re renting this room out . . .” He trailed off, staring at the small bedroom. His dad did forget that this guy was staying here. Unless, maybe his dad did it purposely? His dad was known for being quite a trickster, so he wouldn’t have been too surprised. Wasn’t this a bit extreme though? 

“Yeah, it’s mine.” The guy crossed his arms defiantly, “Therefore, you have to leave.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” San said certainly. 

The stranger looked completely offended. He opened his mouth for a moment, like he was going to object, but then he closed it, and then opened it again to snap back, “I’m tired as fuck. Leave.” 

“There’s literally nowhere else to sleep.” San nearly laughed, laying back down against his pillows. 

This would’ve been funny if they weren’t both so tired. Honestly, he was enjoying speaking to someone who wasn’t a part of his staff or a reporter. He loved his staff, he really did, but they were there with him 24/7. This was someone who obviously had no clue who he was. And he didn’t want to brag but—he was a rather popular idol, worldwide. 

The young man sighed deeply, ruffling his hair back as his eyes landed on the ceiling, clearly stressed over San’s spontaneously stubborn attitude. 

At one point, the guy asked, “Month and year.” He ordered, “I’m November, 99.” 

“July, 99.” San smiled again, but was surprised to find that it wasn’t forced. It felt good. He was older than this intruder. 

“Fuck.” The guy cursed under his breath and sat on the edge of the bed, making it sink. “I did _not_ need this today . . .” He said this softly, as if not wanting San to hear. 

He could understand, but at the same time he’d undergone similar situations where he just needed to accept the circumstances. The scandal, for instance. This guy was not troubled enough to sleep on the bed that San so rightfully needed. 

But then again, if the rumors of him being a cold and aloof idol were fake, then why was he mimicking them? He wasn’t. He truly wasn’t. He just didn’t feel like sharing a bed with a complete stranger. But—but he should at least let the guy get some sleep. 

He rubbed his eyes, accepting that maybe he had gone crazy over the days under the watchful eye of Dispatch. If the story of him with those two girl group members could be blown away by a single picture of San sleeping in the same bed with a man from his hometown, then maybe the reporters would finally get off his back. Though they would probably also make another scandal for him. 

“Just . . . just sleep here.” He concluded. He almost couldn’t believe he’d actually said those words aloud. 

And it seemed as if the stranger couldn’t believe them either, because he had paused rubbing at his own eyes to look at San in complete shock, face full of disbelief. “ _What_?” 

San opened his mouth to speak, but found it difficult, for some reason. He was a goddam idol. He was supposed to be good with his words. “Uh—um, just . . . sleep here for tonight?” 

The young man laughed, but it in no way sounded like he was happy about the situation, “No fucking way.” 

“Then sleep on the floor.” San replied. 

“No, _you_ sleep on the floor.” He retaliated. 

San placed a hand over his face, closing his eyes. This was going to last all morning. They were butting heads already. And he didn’t want to sound like he was an expert in Astrology but—this Cancer and Sagittarius energy was clearly becoming chaotic. 

“Listen, I’m sleeping here, whether you like it or not. You can stay on the bed, on the floor—” He gazed at the younger man, “I don’t care, just—let me sleep.” 

San turned from him to face the wall, curling in on his side and resting his head on his pillow, proving to him that he wasn’t kidding about sleeping. 

And it worked, for the first five minutes, because San did hear shuffling, and cursing, which was definitely not aimed to be soft. At least the guy had a cute side, otherwise San would have just thrown his ass out to the living room. 

The lights turned off. He relaxed, somewhat, until the guy grabbed the blanket from his hands and instead threw a light sheet at him. The bed was big, and took up most of the room, so they could (almost but not really) comfortably lay as far from each other as humanly possible. 

San honestly didn’t think the guy would agree to sharing the bed, though as tired as he looked, he wasn’t surprised. 

“This better be worth all that money,” The guy murmured. San barely caught onto it. He didn’t even understand what the guy was implying. 

He merely ignored him, for the sake of sleep. He could hardly keep his eyes open. 

But for a moment, he remembered what it was like sharing a dorm with someone. Hearing their breathing slow and soften as sleep found them, and the sensation that there was a person close by—that you weren’t _alone_. 

This must’ve been the first time San had slept with someone since the scandal began. He hadn’t noticed how much he missed rooming with his members. Though it was really so very awkward now, especially since this guy was a complete stranger. 

Though San had to trust his parents. His dad would never allow any crazy people into their home. 

Right?

# ________

Wooyoung dreamt of the first time he arrived in the town. 

Every place he’d visited before were all unique in their own way. Even his own hometown had a sense of community to it. It felt good working with people, knowing that he was helping out individuals, even in the smallest of ways. 

The school was pretty run-down when he first came. It was still in pretty bad shape, though with some money it could look promising. 

All of this was fulfilling. Knowing he could make a difference. But he also felt that he didn’t visit home as often as he should’ve. When he was done with one town, he moved onto another one, and then after he’d go back to Seoul to look for more jobs. He hardly contacted home at all nowadays. 

But he certainly knew what his mom was going to ask him if he ever went back. His father as well, was also waiting for him to settle down, and maybe bring someone home. _Anyone_ , home. They were pretty desperate, at that point. 

He didn’t want what they wanted, though. He liked being adventurous, meeting new people, and above all else, he loved dancing, performing, helping others. 

If he met someone who shared the same passion, then . . . 

He did not know. He didn’t have to, yet. He already had a load of problems he needed to face. 

Alone.

# ________

The morning light was blinding. 

And even though it was already 11 in the afternoon, the house was eerily quiet. It was so quiet, he had slept soundly, without interruption. He could’ve even said that it was the best night’s sleep he’s had in a while. 

Wooyoung had been working tirelessly, for weeks. He hadn’t had a full rest in . . . literal days. Sure he felt the small tinge of a hangover, but that was quickly dispelled by how comfortable he felt in bed. He didn’t want to leave. 

He couldn’t even fully remember what had happened last night. He recalled saying goodbye to Yunho, and then coming back home and knocking out instantly once his head hit the pillow. 

It was warm, surprisingly warm. Mornings were always cruel and cold in the countryside, but he found that the sun, and his layers of blankets were proving to be working against the icy air, even in Spring. 

But . . . when he moved, he didn’t feel the familiar tug of a blanket. He felt . . . nothing. 

It was warm though, so he must’ve still been dreaming. He was definitely wrapped in his blankets, encased in his own heat, sleeping soundly. 

He should’ve gotten up to wash his face at least. He didn’t remember doing that before going to bed. He hadn’t even brushed his teeth. God, his breath was probably terrible. 

Still, he refused to move, until a sudden thought crossed his mind. 

He hadn’t moved onto his right side, which was the position he usually slept in. This time, he was laying on his left, and holding . . . something. No—his fingers were grasping onto cloth that felt like cotton, and buttons. 

But he was probably just sleeping! This was a dream. Just a dream. There was no way anyone snuck into the bed at night. He was completely alone. 

He must have been having some weird dream. It wouldn’t have been the . . . first. Okay, yeah, he was simply experiencing one of _those_ dreams. Because in reality, no one was sleeping with him. No had slept with him in a long, _long_ time. And he also wouldn’t have agreed to _this_. He wasn’t so easily swayed. 

The headache he was feeling did sway him though, as well as the overwhelming heat. It was warm, but with the sun and the unknown source of heat—it was making him slightly sweaty. 

He shifted, fingers still tightly latched onto the buttons in his dream. The dream where he was sleeping next to a stranger, handsome, with a sharp jaw and black hair, and were those red highlights he was seeing? The dream, where, Wooyoung was grasping onto this made-up man’s shirt, whilst sleeping, nose pressed against the man’s chest, breathing in his pleasant cologne that smelled almost like cinnamon. The dream where the made-up man had an arm under Wooyoung’s neck, cradling and keeping his head beneath his chin, while his other arm stayed draped over _Wooyoung’s_ waist, hands slightly holding him close. The dream where Wooyoung was lightly tugging onto the man, being the small spoon and realizing that this, in fact, wasn’t a dream after all. 

Instantly, he froze. 

Where had this man come from? Was he there the previous night—? Yes, yes he was. This was the man who he was fighting with for so long. This was the man who was going to donate money to the school. The man Wooyoung was secretly beginning to despise. The man who was his landlord’s _son_. 

He couldn’t help the burning he felt on the tips of his ears. He quickly stopped that, by slowly releasing himself from the man’s determined hold. 

How had he forgotten? Had he thought it was all a dream? Well, at first he thought the guy was just some made-up person in one of his . . . _fantasies_. 

Wooyoung inched backwards slowly, grateful that the man remained fast asleep. Had the guy taken sleeping pills or something? He was knocked out. 

But it gave him the opportunity to observe the stranger. He’d heard so much about him in town, and he’d seen the man’s baby pictures for weeks. It honestly felt as if Wooyoung should’ve known the man already. 

And he hated that he called him handsome. But that was only one time. Actually two times now. Though that was all he was going to do. 

Mentally, he slapped himself. 

Then, his phone chimed, scaring him. 

He turned to the sleeping man, expecting him to wake up. He stayed asleep, surprisingly. Maybe if he had known how tired the man was previously, he probably wouldn’t have been so keen on kicking him out. 

Fuck, he seriously slept in the same bed with a complete stranger. Though was this really technically a stranger? He was going to get to know the guy sooner or later. He _was_ the guy donating to the school, where Wooyoung worked at. 

But still! 

He lifted himself from the bed, untangling himself from the other man’s caging limbs. The guy was pretty strong, almost as strong as a professional dancer, just like Wooyoung and Yunho. At first, he thought the man was a businessman. Maybe he was? Maybe he was just a health freak? Businessmen also kept up their appearances, and this guy looked as if the clothes he slept in cost a fortune. Also, those highlights were _not_ cheap to get. 

After a while of secretly judging the guy, he slipped off the bed, only to turn back and survey how the man had stayed asleep for so long, even with Wooyoung releasing himself from that strong grip. 

Just who did the guy think he was? Holding onto Wooyoung while sleeping? It was kind of embarrassing, and he still couldn’t help the heat from his face. This was all his fault! 

He grew angry, and a little restless. Truthfully, he wanted to sleep more, but the urge to leave was overwhelming as well. He sure as hell wasn't going to out himself to this guy that they woke up wrapped in each other’s arms. How embarrassing would that be? Yeah, he could deal with this problem later. 

Later, because this guy was already causing trouble. And Wooyoung _hated_ trouble more than anything. 

For a second, he eyed the sleeping man again, watching him breathe softly, peacefully. 

No. They were _not_ going to get along at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *thoroughly upset that i don't have tickets to their LA concert, but really happy & proud that they're sold out!! :"))  
> *also what is with my lack of dialogue?! *facepalms* i must write more
> 
> *Comments are dearly appreciated!! <3  
> *Also please let me know if I’ve made any mistakes!! <3


	5. Chapter 5

The kitchen had been alive earlier in the afternoon once everyone had woken up. The familiar sounds of kitchen life seemed to bloom even louder as the day progressed. Having guests over meant that the house was much livelier than usual. It was nice, the slow pace of everything occurring. 

The sun streamed in through the living room windows, casting a harsh yellow glare on everything in the room, bringing in the much-needed heat of Spring and early Summer. An open window allowed a nice breeze to enter as well, that smelled much like the season. 

It was relaxing, and exactly like the break he was craving after months of working hard on the latest comeback. And even though they weren’t going to go through with it this year, he knew that when he came back, finally, he’d have to work extra hard to gain the public’s trust again. Maybe even harder than he’s ever had to work in his life. 

But being encased in this bubble, of being at home with his friends and family—sometimes it was enough to remind him that he did nothing wrong, and that things would fall into place eventually. The press were still trying to dig up evidence, but with no luck. Just simple pictures of him and the individual hanging out and having dinner. 

Thinking about it made him wince. Of course people would assume. Of course people would mistake it as a ‘relationship’. But he had never expected another person to come into the picture and say that he was cheating. 

He scrubbed at a few dishes and pretended that the greasy build up on the plates was his own mess that he’d made with Dispatch. He wished it was just as easy to clean up all of that. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. 

What he did find amusing though, was the fact that his new roommate hated his guts for some reason. Well, San didn’t like the attitude directed at him, but it was a fresh change from the headlines in the news. And San would take anything but that stuff. He’d had enough of it. So, yeah, it was a breath of fresh air. 

He sighed into the sponge. 

He’d been helping his mom out with cleaning the kitchen. It was already spotless, but he felt the need to be doing _something_. Working restlessly all his life kind of built up an unusual endurance in him. 

“Your hands are going to turn to raisins.” His mom said over his shoulder. She was working on the cutting board, getting everything ready for dinner. Again, she was going to make a huge meal, even though she didn’t need to. 

San smiled, but hid it. He didn’t want to be sappy and admit that he just wanted to be there, with her, helping her, being a _son_ again and not an idol. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He replied, turning off the faucet. He shook his hands free of water in the sink and turned to meet her, leaning against the counter. 

She merely stayed quiet, and so did he. The sounds of her chopping, mixed with the bubbling of the pot on the stove, plus his father in the next room changing the light bulb in the bathroom and _not_ cleaning out the guest bedroom (like San had begged him to)—all of these sounds were music to his ears. 

His mom looked at him from the corner of her eye. He could say he was a perfect blend of his parents. He had his mom’s eyes, his dad’s height, “You look tired.” 

He faked a smile, though he knew she could see right through him, “No, mom. I’m really not—” 

“It looked like you were sleeping well, though.” She pointed out, resuming her chopping. A warm smile graced her face, the same kind of smile she made when San did something especially cute. “I didn’t want to wake you two up.” 

He exhaled again, revealing how unsettled but amused he was about the guy renting out his room. This morning San had asked (reminded) his father about it, but San only got a, ‘Oh. Didn’t I tell you? I did tell you. You must’ve forgotten.’ 

No, San most definitely hadn’t forgotten something that big. He could clearly still see the look of anger in the smaller guest’s eyes. Maybe they should’ve started off with a proper introduction? He still didn’t know the man’s name yet. And when he asked his father, his dad simply answered with a, ‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’ 

What were his parents trying to do? 

His mom smiled for the second time at his reaction, “He’s a good boy. A teacher, actually, at the school you’re going to be in.” She informed him, sliding the chopped vegetables into the stew pot. 

He took the heavy board from her and placed it in the sink, asking, “But why can’t I get my room back . . .?” 

She took a spoon from the drawer and pointed it at him, “You’re free to stay in there with him, if you want.” 

“Mom, that’s not going to work.” He pleaded. 

“Why not?” She raised a brow at him. That was something he hadn’t seen in a long time. He couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face. 

“Because . . .” Because what? Because he was a grown adult and he didn’t need to deal with something like this. “Because I don’t think we get along.” 

“Nonsense.” His mom dipped the spoon in the soup and blew on it. “Wooyoungie’s a good boy.” 

“Wooyoungie?” He would’ve laughed at the way she said his name in such a loving manner, had he not been disrupted by that same spoon held up to his mouth. He rolled his eyes, tasting the soup as she demanded. “Okay, fine, I get you like him.” 

“We both do.” She covered the soup with a lid and placed her hands on her hips. “I thought you did too, since I found you two wrapped up in each other this morning—” 

“Wait.” He held his hand up to pause her, “Wait—what?” 

His mom gave him a defeated smirk. She was definitely up to something. Half the time he didn’t know what went on in his parent’s heads. Though the same could be said for him as well. They were most likely just trying to punish him for not visiting as often as they would’ve liked. 

But this was taking it too far. They had woken up in each other’s arms? What was this? But then again, that could explain why he’d slept so comfortably last night. And his mom wasn’t lying. Judging by the ‘i told you so’ look on her face, he had to believe her. 

Instead of arguing about it, he actually _laughed_. 

She appeared somewhat taken aback by it, “What?” 

“You do know he doesn’t like me?” He questioned her, “I think he hates me—” 

“He doesn’t hate you.” She said with finality, “He just doesn’t _know_ you.” 

At that remark, he fell quiet. 

That was true. They didn’t know each other. That could’ve been the main reason as to why they had bickered the night before. He didn’t mind doing it again, but at the same time he should make an effort just for his parents. 

Also, he had to make sure Mingi didn’t take any secret pictures of that apparent moment in the morning. Had the man been awake before either of them? Wait— 

That guy named Wooyoung was awake and gone before San, so . . . he must’ve known they had woken up together like that. Would he deny it if San brought it up? Would he even mention it? 

Maybe, for the sake of everyone, it was best to get to know this stranger a little more.

# ________

He had left before anyone had awoken, or at least, he hoped they were all still asleep when he left the house. He did _not_ want word spreading about him and that son of their’s sharing the same bed. Wooyoung was going to have to find a way to get rid of that guy permanently. He was not going to be sharing the bed again. 

Thankfully, since it was Saturday, everyone had decided to sleep in. And although his small hangover had him feeling nauseous in the shower, he was starting to feel better once he reached the small restaurant where he and Yunho were to meet. 

His excitement at leaving that place was short-lived though, because apparently Yunho was late due to the fact that he might’ve (he definitely didn’t) saw a guy that looked _exactly_ like his favorite Mingi from Ateez. 

Why would that guy even be there in that small town anyway? Yunho was probably still a little tipsy from the night before, or—maybe the lovesick fool was beginning to grow crazy. 

Yunho slumped his shoulders, “I’m not in love with him, I’m just—” 

“A great admirer.” Wooyoung finished his sentence with doubt on his tongue. “Sure. And hallucinating about him walking around this town is not a sign that you’re in love—” 

His friend raised his empty cup up to the waiter, watching as it refilled with coffee, totally ignoring Wooyoung. Wooyoung was just messing with him. It was fun to mess with an Aries, to see how far he could poke at the embers before getting a real heated reaction. 

He leaned forward, letting his weight rest on the table. All he had this morning was coffee, because his stomach wasn’t agreeing to anything. Due to work, he and Yunho relied on eating out, since he came back to the house rather late most of the time. This was a favorite place of theirs to frequent. 

Honestly, he craved a home cooked meal. Particularly soup. 

Yunho sipped at his coffee, feeling the same side-effects he was feeling. The man had swallowed 3 pills in front of him for the headache he was currently undergoing. “Slept comfortably?” 

“Why do you ask?” Wooyoung relaxed his tone, but it still probably sounded guarded. Just the mere mention made him think back to sharing a bed with that guy, and waking up in his arms—

“Just . . . you look refreshed,” His friend tilted his head, partly confused as to why Wooyoung would be acting strangely. 

“I’m not.” He said, grumpily, hand beneath his chin, watching the afternoon glow from the window at his left. 

Yunho didn’t believe him, “Almost like you didn’t drink enough last night.” 

“I drank enough.” He replied, a little too quickly. 

The older man smirked, “Okay . . .” 

“I’m fine.” He assured him, “A little hungover but . . . _fine_.” 

He hated lying to his friend. 

Yunho leaned on the table too, watching him. It was apparent how much stress they were under. What with the school on low funds, their need for another job, and the overall stress one has when being a teacher—

Of course they’d become good friends. So good, that they could almost read each other’s minds at that point. That was why his extremely tall friend was looking at him now with a hint of awareness. He knew something was wrong. 

Wooyoung sighed into his empty coffee cup, regretting not asking the waiter to refill his as well. Too much coffee was going to dehydrate him anyway. Drinking water was better. 

“Last night . . .” He trailed off, and regarded how odd it was that he hadn’t told his friend these things when they first met up. Now, it seriously felt like he could release his kempt up anger, after a few Advil and cups of coffee. “Last night that donor showed up in my room. Asleep.” 

Yunho hummed, not appearing very surprised. It wasn’t, really. They both knew that guy was going to be coming sooner or later. “In your room?” 

“Yeah.” 

“On your bed.” 

His lips formed into a thin line as Yunho mentioned that. That was another reason why he struggled to bring it up. The incessant teasing he knew he was going to receive was too overwhelming to imagine. 

“Yeah.” He admitted, taking a last swig of his coffee and placing the cup rather harshly back onto the table surface, making it clink. “On my bed.” 

On _his_ bed, actually. 

“So . . . you two slept together?” Yunho came to the conclusion. He had said it so casually, almost as if he wasn’t surprised about that either. 

Wooyoung rose from his seat quickly to lay a hand over his friend’s mouth, preventing him from speaking any further. He scolded, whispering a, “Shut up!” 

Yunho shrugged as Wooyoung let go of his mouth, “What? 

“How can you be so loud?” He continued to whisper. 

“Speak for yourself.” His friend remarked, “Also, why didn’t you just sleep on the couch . . .?” 

“I think he has a friend staying over.” Wooyoung thought over this. He had indeed seen a man he’d never known, sleeping on the couch before he departed. The blanket had hidden his face, so much that he couldn’t get a good image of what he looked like. “And that’s _my_ bed. I’m paying for it.” 

“I guess so.” Yunho placed his coffee cup down too, grinning now. 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at him, “I thought you were going to make fun of me for it.” 

“I will.” He answered immediately. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything then—” Wooyoung began, but was cut off. 

Yunho leaned in closer, to look into his eyes, “Is he cute?” 

“What?” He scoffed, “No fucking way.” 

“You’re lying.” 

“I”m not lying.” He demanded, sitting back and crossing his arms. 

Yunho did the same, analyzing him, “You pout when you lie.” 

“Okay, well, yes . . . okay.” Wooyoung threw his hands in the air, “He’s kind of handsome. _Okay_. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to share my space with him—” 

“Not what I’m saying.” Yunho laughed to himself, eyes crinkling at the corners, “I’m just teasing you. See? You wanted me to tease you.” 

“I did not ask for that.” Wooyoung sank even further in his seat, maintaining a prominent pout. Yunho should’ve seen the pout the man had last night. It would’ve rivaled Wooyoung’s. 

They sat in silence for a good while, allowing the sounds of the restaurant to muffle over the conversation they’d brewed. 

Well, he was asking for it. If he wasn’t, then he never would’ve brought it up. He just hoped no one else witnessed what had happened in the morning. For all he knew, Wooyoung was the only one who had been awake. 

And the guy turned out to be a heavy sleeper. It was a win-win for them all—until he remembered that he still needed to fight for his bedroom. 

Yunho stretched his arms above his head, yawning contentedly. 

Wooyoung remained like stone, still picturing the image of the sleeping man, so peaceful. It was hard not remember what had happened. It was even harder trying to calm his rapid heartbeat. Was this hatred? Yes, yes it probably was. What else could it have been? 

“Maybe this is a good thing.” His friend suggested, tone light. “Maybe you two can _bond_.” 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes once more, appalled at the idea. “I do not have time for that.” He mocked laughter, and then brought his glass of water to his lips, scowling into the clear liquid. “I don’t want to be friends with some rich guy.”

# ________

Despite what his friend had said back there, it was true they needed to befriend that ‘rich guy’ he was so obviously starting to hate. It was strange that Wooyoung had been hating on him, even before he’d met the man—but at the same time it didn’t seem so unusual. 

Yunho was starting to believe that it was taking a toll on his friend, so much that he was beginning to grow worried, and a little tired over it already. He wanted things to _begin_. And even though the weekend had just begun, he longed for things to go back to the hectic schedules of finals and classes. He loved teaching, and above all else, he loved a challenge. 

The challenging part of teaching at this school was the fact that they had two talented dance teachers, he and Wooyoung. And although he hated competing with his friends, he also loved it. Often he wondered how it would be like if there were three dance and vocalist teachers just like them, or maybe even four. They were so understaffed, Yunho wouldn’t have minded at all, honestly. 

But that was all something he merely thought about on occasion. He knew there would be no one to come save the school sooner or later. That ‘donor’ was going to help them, obviously, though he couldn’t help but feel as if something else was beginning. 

It was just a feeling in his gut. He knew he couldn’t rely on his intuition. The school was his top priority at the moment anyway. Truthfully, he was glad he’d met Wooyoung in Seoul. It was an encounter that had changed his perspective on things, especially in dance. 

He’d volunteered before, multiple times, but he never thought he’d be taking a majority of his time doing just that. In reality, amidst all of the troubles, he actually loved it. But it must've been taking a toll on him as well. He _had_ seen someone who looked mysteriously like Mingi, though at the same time he had probably imagined it. Wooyoung was wrong a majority of the time, Yunho wasn't hallucinating because of love. There had to have been another explanation for his short encounter with the look-alike. Yunho was definitely, _definitely_ not in love. And Mingi, well, there was little to no chance that the world-wide artist was in this small town. It drowned his spirits, but it was true. he admired the man, immensely, though he couldn't outright call it 'love'. 

Ignoring the memory of the idol, he gazed at the sky instead. It was starting to grow dark, even though the Spring hours had just begun. It was five in the afternoon. He’d woken up at around two. Mainly because Wooyoung and he had been out drinking the night before. 

Saturday night was a day meant for hanging out, relaxing, partying? He didn’t much care at the moment, not when he had downed like 3 Advils back at the restaurant. He was completely _done_. 

So why was he so adamant to make it to the school? Even though it was most likely closed? Well, he was charming enough to convince the security to open the dance room for him. It had happened before, and he was tempted to do it again. 

Because when things became hectic—for example, with that donor and with Wooyoung being completely stubborn over it—he found that _dancing_ away his worries was what helped him best. 

He’d been dancing ever since he could remember. He figured sometimes that he learned how to dance before he could even walk. His friends and even his parents had agreed. He just had way too much energy to spare, and dancing was the best way to express it. 

So he found it especially great when he found that the school was actually . . . open? Well, the front door had been left unlocked, as if someone had forgotten to lock it. Maybe the janitors in the morning had completely forgot about it? Unless the principal of the school was there doing his usual rounds around the grounds? 

Yunho took the chance and swung the door open, letting it close behind him. The hallways were lit by a single light at the end, much like there had been someone there recently. It was eerie, but he had a pretty strong stomach, and wasn’t nearly afraid enough to retreat. 

He hitched his backpack strap higher on his shoulder when he turned a sharp corner, reaching the nearest dance room. There was a dance room on every floor of the building, and they were generally spacious enough to fit two classrooms. 

The first dance room on the 1st level though, was pretty old, and could fit maybe a group of people. It was an intimate space, a place where he’d usually send off students if they were working on a duo dance routine. 

It was his favorite place to practice after hours, and was probably the place where Wooyoung had left his phone charger that one time. 

“What the fuck. . .?” He muttered to himself. 

He’d been surprised there for a moment, because he half-expected to find that small dance room dark and locked, without a soul in sight. Instead, the room was lit alive on one side, and was left slightly open. 

It _was_ empty. He was thankful for that. But even though he had said he wasn’t scared easily, just the idea that maybe this place wasn’t as alone as it seemed, sent a literal chill up his spine. 

He stepped into the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. There was nothing there, except—wait, there _was_ something there. 

He swung off his backpack, letting it hit the ground with a thud as he observed another black bag in the right corner of the room, next to the half-opened blinds that began to seep in warm, fading afternoon light against the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. 

It was probably Wooyoung’s bag. But when had he shown up? And hadn’t he told him he was going back home to argue further with that son? Why was he in the dance room as well? 

Yunho scratched the back of his neck, feeling too confused for his liking. He hated surprises, and was starting to regret showing up to the school. What he had begged for from the beginning was peace and quiet. He just wanted to dance for an hour or so, to let off a little steam. Perhaps maybe another room was open besides this one? It didn’t seem like his luck would stretch that far though. 

He sighed. It was probably better to go home. 

But as soon as he caught sight of the stereo system to his left, and the hanging auxiliary cord, just waiting for him to learn the steps of that new NCT song that had just been released . . . 

He dropped to his knees, digging out the phone charger in the front pocket of his bag. No one had shown up since he walked in, so—

“Um . . .” A low voice from behind disrupted his thoughts. 

Yunho dropped his phone charger suddenly, letting slide across the floor. He cursed under his breath, knowing fully well how valuable his electronics were, especially when he was in the middle of nowhere. Damn, Wooyoung couldn’t just sneak up on him like that. 

He turned, angry but willing to give a small apology for taking the room, but he stopped. 

A man he wasn’t fully acquainted with was standing in the doorway, watching him. “Did you reserve this room too?” 

Yunho froze. 

It _wasn’t_ Wooyoung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *i'm so excited for their new reality show!! they really know how to feed us Atiny :D  
> *also i deeply apologize for leaving it at a cliffhanger!! :( i promise wooyoung & san are going to spend all their time together in the next chapter ;) ;) ;) i wonder what deep-voiced guy showed up to the dance room?? also how did he get in ? :0 
> 
> *comments are dearly appreciated <3  
> *also please let me know if i've made any mistakes <3


	6. Chapter 6

He wanted to live simply and just hang around the house for the entirety of the day, but that also meant his parents were going to force him to do chores non-stop. It was a beautiful day out, which was partly why he felt a small urge that enticed him to step out just for a little while. Though remembering how he hadn’t seen his neighbors and friends for years also kept him hesitant. 

From what his mom had told him, most of his friends had left the small town and were now in Seoul. Some of them were aware of his success as an idol, and others found that they couldn’t believe it. He knew that most of the elders in his village surely weren’t going to change the way they treated him. To them, he was still five years old, in his overalls, playing with race cars. 

And Mingi was nowhere to be found. San felt somewhat betrayed that his one and only friend from Seoul was gone. He hadn’t even been there for breakfast, which meant that he had probably been awake before anyone. Thus, he might’ve taken the embarrassing picture from this morning . . . 

But for some reason, San didn’t mind? He thought of the whole situation as something amusing. And it distracted him, in a way, it lifted his drowned spirits and brought him into another reality he’d forgotten. For once in a long time, he was happy he got to interact with a person who had no idea of his life. 

Though it was hard to believe that. His name had been splattered over every news outlet. The guy was going to figure it out sooner or later. 

San hoped the guest would never know about it, though. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to protect the man, or if San was merely being selfish. Maybe both. 

His mom walked into the living room, carrying a fresh vase of flowers from their backyard. Their home was small on the inside, but spacious on the outside. The backyard consisted of a screened patio deck and an herb garden. The Taekwondo studio was connected to the house on the left, which meant that they owned even more land. 

Growing up there meant there was a lot to run around in. Though now, in place of a play-space, his father had built his mother a small gazebo, strung with fairy lights. Very romantic. 

He smiled as he sat back on the couch, watching her place the new vase atop the mantel. She didn’t seem pleased that he was simply sitting there, relaxing. 

“If you have nothing to do, then maybe you should let Wooyoungie take you around town.” She said as she arranged the flowers, not looking at him at all. “He would like that.” 

“No, mom, I don’t think he would.” San replied honestly. Judging by their conversation (argument) last night, it was clear the guy didn’t want anything to do with him. 

She turned around to lift a brow at him, appearing very motherly, “Listen to your mother.” 

“Mom.” He began to complain. He almost sounded like he was five again. “I get he’s cute with you but—” 

“But he’s still a good boy and he definitely deserves an apology from you.” She disrupted him. “Okay?” 

San watched her as she crossed the living room to enter the kitchen. He couldn’t see her anymore, but he could hear her rummaging through the cabinets. She most likely wasn’t going to listen to him if he disagreed. 

Well, he didn’t want to be punished. “Do I have to apologize . . .?” He mumbled to himself. 

“Yes you do.” His father came out of nowhere, slightly scaring him as he slid the porch screen door open, not even glancing at San. 

Once the man had departed from his view as well, San scoffed at absolutely nothing. He couldn’t believe his own parents had sided with that guy. San was _their_ son! 

He ran a hand over his face, exhaling tiredly. 

Perhaps a nice walk would clear his head?

# ________

Wooyoung was _fuming_. 

Once he reached the house, he was intent on arguing with the man further. Just who did the guy think he was? Sure he was wealthy, but that didn’t mean Wooyoung was wrong about it all. That was _his_ bed, and he was tired of having to repeat himself. 

Maybe having a chat with the landlord was best? But how could he have done that, knowing the son would probably have a better chance at winning the argument? He _was_ their son. Wooyoung wasn’t. 

He slumped where he stood. He was standing in the middle of the road, watching as the sunset before him began to burn away into early evening. Saturday had passed by too quickly. But then again, he had in fact slept through a majority of it. 

He just wished that guy never came. Actually, he wished the guy had stayed somewhere else. He was basically being a nuisance. And Wooyoung knew he wasn’t behaving reasonably, though having to share a bed with a complete stranger wasn’t helping his attitude at all. 

Wooyoung turned on his heels, facing the direction of the restaurant he’d just left. Yunho should’ve returned with him, so that his friend could’ve seen what Wooyoung was complaining about. Though he had a feeling Yunho would have gotten along well with him, unfortunately. 

Tiredly, he placed a finger to his temple, thinking. It was good the town was partially empty. No cars seemed to pass by as he questioned his decisions in the middle of the road. Nor did anyone come to ask if he was okay. He most certainly wasn’t. And Yunho hadn’t helped either. Just where had he gone? The dance room again? Probably. 

Damn, Wooyoung didn’t want to go back to the house, but at the same time he knew he had to. In order to win back that bed, he would have to fight for it. 

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, abandoning his position to face the direction of the house, but was disrupted by a familiar face mere inches from his own. 

Wooyoung hadn’t been paying attention. Where had the man come from so suddenly? 

“Found you.” The guy from the morning had shown up right in front of him, smiling awkwardly, sheepishly, as if he could read Wooyoung’s lingering thoughts of hate. 

“I . . .” Wooyoung couldn’t find the correct words. He took a step back from him immediately. The guy had arrived so randomly, he felt thrown off from his usually confident composure. “I’m still mad . . .” 

“I know.” The guy ran a hand through his hair, brushed now unlike earlier when he’d had bedhead. The red highlights glistened in the fading sunset, looking unnatural. 

Wooyoung waited for the guy to say anything else, but he didn’t. 

They stood there, silent, for a good minute. 

It was uncomfortable. All of it. But he had to admit it was progress. He disliked being awkward with people, and so all of this was slightly infuriating to him. Wooyoung just needed to talk to the guy, and hopefully some things would smooth out on their own. Hopefully. 

He broke the silence by extending his hand out to the man. He felt a bit hot, as if his face was growing red with his attempts at negotiating. “I’m Wooyoung.” 

The guy raised a sharp brow at him, and then took his hand, shaking it firmly. There was that strength Wooyoung had felt in the morning. The man definitely worked out. “San.” 

“San . . .” He let the name sit on his tongue. For some reason, it felt familiar. Maybe he’d forgotten he knew someone with the same name? Someone he knew did have that name but—he must’ve forgotten. “San, that’s my bed.” 

The man named San stared at him, slightly wide-eyed. It would’ve been funny, had Wooyoung not been so serious. The guy crossed his arms and laughed. He _laughed_. “That’s my bed too.” 

“Then what are we going to do about it?” He asked. He hadn’t noticed he raised his voice. Truthfully, he was growing desperate at that point. Wasn’t it obvious they didn’t get along? For Wooyoung, it was heartbreaking. He generally got along with everyone. Just who was this guy anyway? 

“I’m going to share the bed with you until we come to an agreement.” The guy remained standing there, appearing determined in his words. 

Wooyoung faltered, “San . . .” The name was still unfamiliar on his tongue, but he managed to say it. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea—” 

“Why don’t we just try to get along, then?” He suggested, slipping his hands into his pockets. He rocked on his heels, watching Wooyoung expectantly. 

Wooyoung merely sighed. He could feel his face muscles automatically begin to form a prominent pout. Everything, everything was against him. 

After another awkward pause, he tried again, “San, I don’t think we—” 

“My mom said you could show me around town.” San said, so casually, Wooyoung almost thought he imagined it. He jutted a thumb behind his shoulder, “Wanna inform me on what I’ve missed out on these three years I’ve been away?” And then added, “Wooyoung?” 

Wooyoung felt his skin burn. It must have been the kempt up anger and frustration that’d been bottled up inside him. “Y-you say that as if we’ve known each other for a long time.” 

He shrugged, “I don’t like conflict.” 

“Really . . .” Wooyoung found that hard to believe, but he accepted it. Even though they had spent a majority of their first meeting arguing. 

At that moment, he couldn’t actually believe they were conversing normally. He half-expected the man to not give in—he wasn’t, but still he was attempting to negotiate with him. Wooyoung didn’t know how to feel about that. What he did know, was that he remained feeling annoyed. 

He just wanted to get out of there, to never see the guy again. So what was all this about showing him around town? Hadn’t the man grown up there? Why did it have to be Wooyoung, of all people, why him? 

Hesitantly, he studied the taller individual. 

It didn’t appear as if he was joking about it. He wished that were the case. Now Wooyoung was in another predicament he didn’t want to be in. Especially since apparently it was his landlord that wanted Wooyoung to show this guy around town? Maybe sacrificing the bed was a better idea. 

He sighed deeply, “I can’t believe . . .”

# ________

San stood tall. There was something he’d been meaning to ask this guy. Wooyoung. 

“Can I ask you something?” He said. 

Wooyoung still didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, the man seemed as if he didn’t want to meet his eyes. Yeah, he definitely did not like him. “It depends . . .” 

“Why do you dislike me?” San questioned. It was a question that had been running through his mind ever since they argued. Sure it’d been a while since then, but they were still butting heads. Why? 

He shrugged, totally disregarding San, “Maybe it’s because you stole my bed.” 

“For the last time, it’s _my_ bed.” He argued. “And you were the one who—” 

San stopped himself. He was about to reveal the fact that they’d woken up wrapped up in each other. Speaking truthfully, he didn’t exactly want to confess that he knew it’d happened. Partly because he wanted to see if Wooyoung would say it himself. 

But he wasn’t going to. That was the thing. If he was behaving in this way, then that ultimately meant he wasn’t going to admit to it. 

“What?” Wooyoung eyed him suspiciously, “What did I do?” 

“Nothing.” San cut him off shortly. He felt like he wanted to laugh, but at the same time he didn’t want to let slip the small secret that he knew what’d happened. 

Wooyoung glowered, radiating hate. 

_’You woke up before I did, but you won’t admit that you slept in my arms. That’s why you hate me so much, and it’s probably why you refuse to share the bed again.’_ San wanted to say all of these things, but found that he couldn’t. He was just going to have to wait for Wooyoung to step up and say it. 

Damn, they really weren’t going to agree on anything at that point. And so it looked as if they were gonna to have to end up sharing the bed . . . again. 

“No one is going to win.” San pointed out. 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. That must’ve been the first time in a long time that someone had rolled his eyes at him. It was both interesting and annoying. “I know.” He mumbled. “This isn’t _fair_.” 

San bit his lip, thinking. 

There were worst people out there. Wooyoung didn’t seem like a terrible guy, at all. Maybe San was fortunate that it was him and not anyone else. Just how bad could it be? 

Wooyoung scratched the back of his neck, averting his gaze once more. The tips of his ears had grown red with what was probably . . . 

Probably . . . 

Probably _what_? 

“What?” Wooyoung asked again, looking at him this time. The familiar pout he’d seen last night was there. He didn’t know what to think of it now. 

San stiffened. He hadn’t noticed he’d been staring at the guy for a little longer than what was probably considered normal. He’d just been caught up in his thoughts. That was all. Nothing else. 

“N-nothing.” He managed to say, and turned away from the man as well. 

Just how bad could it be? 

Well, it was already looking pretty bad.

# ________

Idol life meant: 

He couldn’t be in a relationship without causing problems. Mingi also knew that, as an idol, he was seriously lacking in free time. And so dating was pushed to the side most of the time. It was good that way. That way, he didn’t have to be constantly thinking about it. 

But what with his parents practically begging him to settle down (he was almost 30! According to his mother), Mingi found that it was becoming harder and harder for him to approach them without getting into a huge argument. 

This sounded sad but—he missed actually being in a relationship. The small quirks, the way he felt elated and nervous at all times, and other . . . things. 

He shook his head from the idea of it all. Specifically _that_. 

When was the last time he’d kissed someone anyway? It must’ve been years. He wondered how he had lived so long without thinking of romance. He figured it was because he had received so much love from his fans and from his team members, that he had stopped thinking about it completely. 

His way of life was a great distraction though. And also, dance was a good distraction as well. Writing lyrics was good too, to make him forget about it. But it was especially hard since most of their songs revolved around love. 

So in the end, dancing was a great way to shake off the stuff he refused to think about. Even though kissing sounded really, really nice. 

Mingi placed both hands on the sink, looking into the mirror. 

He was in the bathroom of the academy he was going to be teaching at for a few weeks. Luckily, he had managed to convince the principal to open the dance room for him. He was ecstatic, but at the same time the room reminded him of the dance room back at his company. 

The steps to their new comeback song were especially difficult this time around. Singing and performing this live was going to take a toll on them. His rap was something he’d been experimenting with for a couple of months, and he was going to lose his breath more than once during the song. He was intent on practicing his part until he got it perfect, though he knew he’d master it once they went back to Seoul. 

He turned off the running sink, exhaling. Behind, he swore he’d heard a door opening and closing, but it didn’t sound as if it had come from the bathroom. It must have been at the front of the school. 

Admittedly, he was a bit scared of staying alone in the dark building. And the noise that indicated someone else was there didn’t make him feel any better. 

Though Mingi was keen on practicing. It was practically in his blood to practice, practice, and practice. It drove him constantly, even when, at times, he didn’t have the strength to stand up anymore. So a little noise coming from the dark wasn’t going to stop him. 

Probably. 

He abandoned the mirror and grabbed his water bottle. Maybe someone had reserved the room before him? Yeah, yeah that was most likely the case.

# ________

Wooyoung didn’t understand what San meant when he said to ‘show him around town’. The man obviously had grown up there, so why did that mean Wooyoung had to walk around the place with him? Wasn’t it torture already sharing a bed? 

Or was this revenge? But then how could Wooyoung explain the fact that the guy also grew up with his grandparents as well? Did he really just want him to show him around? It didn’t sound like a likely thing. 

And it was taking a toll on him. By the time he had made a circle around the very small town with the man, he was practically aching to sit. Dancing for so long yesterday, along with the hangover and now _more_ walking. He was fucking tired. 

They’d visited every part of town that Wooyoung knew, which, honestly wasn’t a lot. He knew no one his own age who lived around the area, therefore he never had the chance to really explore the town deeply. He didn’t want to intrude, much less go into someone’s private property. The village was a big farming community, and Wooyoung wasn’t familiar with that setting at all. It was best not to get in people’s way. 

Still, he showed San the new convenience store that’d opened when he first arrived, a pop-up donut shop that sold fresh pastries every day, as well as the new school amenities and pool that he helped clean out over the summer with some students. 

He had made sure to add a lot of extra exciting details about it all, specifically the school because, hey, this ‘San’ person was the rich donor, right? 

Wooyoung pressed his back against the bridge railing, watching as the rising moon loomed above their heads, casting a rippling glow on the water below them. It was a small bridge, with a river too shallow to swim in. 

The house was only a few blocks away. He could even see the flickering lights of some stores that’d remained open for Saturday night crowds. 

Unlike what he imagined, San was actually a lot quieter than he assumed. When they had been walking, he barely spoke a word. Instead he simply nodded to whatever Wooyoung was saying. He only uttered a few coherent responses, which was probably due to the fact that maybe he was reminiscing. 

Wooyoung could understand. Though he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to know more. It wasn’t his business to be informed on the guy’s life. But it sure as hell was enticing. He loved to pick at a mystery. _Detective Wooyoung_ , He thought to himself, but scratched the idea. 

He yawned, stopping suddenly partly because San spoke up finally, “I haven’t been here in years . . .” 

Wooyoung stayed silent, allowing him to speak further. This was progress. They needed progress, even though he felt too tired to even listen. 

In an attempt to stay alert, he turned to face him, watching as the red streaks in his hair grew luminous in the dark light. “Thank you for walking with me.” He said softly, Wooyoung barely almost caught onto it. 

He tugged at his shirt collar, feeling awkward again, “D-don’t mention it.” He coughed. 

“I lived with my grandparents a majority of the time.” He confessed, gripping the railing firmly. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt. You could clearly see his muscles flex as his fingers tightened around the metal barrier. “They were with me throughout—” 

He stopped himself. 

Wooyoung asked, “Throughout . . .?” 

“School.” San answered. It was a quick answer, and one Wooyoung didn’t fully believe. The man was hiding something but—like the many times before, he knew it was none of his business. 

“Oh,” He said, just to say something, anything. He hated how stiff the atmosphere was. 

“Yeah.” San leaned on the railing too, watching the moon. 

They both fell silent for a good five minutes, merely listening to the lapping water below and the sounds of children and parents walking through the town in the distance to their left. It was strange having someone his own age there. For the longest time it was just Yunho. No offense to Yunho, okay, Wooyoung was grateful to have him as a friend. 

But, it felt more real when someone else was there. The town didn’t seem like some dream anymore. Reality really hit him when he saw the city man against the backdrop of the village. 

“Maybe I’ll introduce you to some places you’ve never been to.” He said, startling Wooyoung somewhat. The silence was deafening, and San just cut through it easily. If he sung, the guy would probably realize he had a good singing voice. But Wooyoung just kept that thought to himself. 

_You can’t just tell him he has a nice voice! What are you thinking?!_

He cleared his throat, “I love the people here so—yeah, that would be great.” 

“Really?” San looked at him, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe him. 

Wooyoung faked a laugh, “Geez, I’m not a bad guy.” 

“Didn’t say you were.” His gaze lingered on him for a good while. Wooyoung believed it was an intimidating stare, as if San wasn’t aware of how expressive his face was. He would’ve been a good actor or model, or maybe even a performer. 

He dropped his eyes to the floor, searching the ground in an attempt to avert his attention away from the man. It was already time to leave anyway. 

“W-we should get back.” He suggested. 

San nodded, “Mom’s made a lot of dinner for us.” 

Wooyoung paused at that. “She did?” 

“You know, she loves you.” San revealed. His tone indicated that maybe there was jealousy there. It made Wooyoung kind of happy. “Like I said, it was her idea that you show me around today.” 

“Yeah . . .” He released his hold from the railing, taking a few steps away from him. San watched him all the while, “Yeah, I like your parents too.” 

A small smile had started to tug at San's face. A _smile_. 

It was a genuine smile, unlike the ones he’d been giving Wooyoung last night and today. He could tell, because the lines on his face weren’t so harsh, in fact, now they were soft. 

Wooyoung looked away again, but then faced him once more when San replied with, “I’m glad.” He walked up to him, smile fading into relief. “That’s good to hear.” 

Wooyoung didn’t know what to say, so in the end he didn’t say anything. 

San really was strange.

# ________

Dinner had gone by quickly. 

Mingi hadn’t even shown up, much to his surprise. Had the guy found a new friend in town? It didn’t seem likely. Unless he’d befriended some of the elders in the village. That was a high possibility. Mingi was a social butterfly, most of his members were. San just hoped he was having a good time. 

He was partly worried as well. He hadn’t received a text from the man at all. All he knew was that Mingi wanted to practice the new steps for their comeback song somewhere. The school? Well, that was the only reasonable place. 

Still, without Mingi, his home remained lively. A side of Wooyoung he had never seen before came out during dinner. Unlike the disheartened young man San had seen on their walk around town, this time Wooyoung looked more alive. 

He animatedly talked to San’s parents and had even given his mom a hug when they arrived. San hadn’t known how loving the guy was until he had been placed with the people he obviously grew to care for. It was as if Wooyoung had done a complete 180 on his personality. 

It also made him think about how San would react if Wooyoung chose to act so lovely towards him. Though he knew it would probably never happen. They were both still at odds with the whole rooming situation. And it seemed as if it would last for the entire length of his visit. 

Just thinking about it gave him a headache. 

“Headache?” His mom asked when she saw that he had abandoned his dish washing to rub at his temples. A hot shower would help with the throbbing of his head. 

He did a curt nod at her, “A lot on my mind.” 

“You should go to sleep soon, then.” She said, handing him a towel to dry his hands. She departed from the kitchen soon afterwards, and even turned the light off whilst he was still there, as if she wanted him to go to bed already. 

He gave up and took the towel, throwing it over his shoulder. The idea of sleep did sound great. Though sleeping also meant he had to argue with Wooyoung. 

San abandoned his position in the kitchen to walk silently through the darkened living room. He’d heard voices on the porch and figured it was his parents. 

A throbbing hit his chest as he thought of them, together. He came to the conclusion that it was best to leave them alone. And so as he walked down the hallway, he swung open his bedroom door and threw the dish towel in the clothes hamper by the closet. 

The light was on, so he assumed Wooyoung was still awake but—

He was fast asleep. 

San silently cursed under his breath. He’d made a lot of noise upon entering, he was shocked the guy hadn’t woken up. Had he been that tired? San started to feel guilty. 

He took a step into the room, sitting down at the edge of the bed to take off his shoes. It looked like Wooyoung hadn’t even attempted to put on his pajamas. The guy was still in the clothes he’d worn during the day. He must have knocked out once he reached the bed. 

San understood. Many times in his life he’d felt exhausted. Sometimes it was a good feeling, and sometimes it wasn’t. 

At the moment, it was good. And had it not been for the annoying headache, he would’ve been reasonable by showering and changing into his pajamas, but no. 

Tiredly, he got up to turn the light switch off, only to find the glow of the moon peeking in through his windows. A sleeping Wooyoung was a peaceful sight. His mouth was slightly open, eyes shut and fingers latched onto the blanket around him. 

San leaned back, keeping his distance from the young man. He remained respectful by staying as far away as humanly possible. He knew Wooyoung would’ve appreciated it. They weren’t exactly on good terms. 

Quietly, he faced him. Wooyoung slept on his right, and so San had a clear view of him. 

_Why are you watching him sleep?_ He thought. 

He laid on his back instead and eyed the ceiling, thinking to himself that never in a million years had he believed this would happen. 

Wooyoung shifted in his sleep then. San watched him as he did so, hoping he wouldn't stick to him like a koala again. 

It wasn’t bad, but—it was inconvenient. Even though they were friendly people, they were still strangers. It was going to take a lot of time for them to become friends. And that was _if_ Wooyoung ever wanted that in the first place. 

San though, did not mind the idea of making a new friend. But friends didn't lie to each other. And San had already done that, by not telling Wooyoung who he actually was. An idol. 

He sighed. 

For some reason, all of this had made him forget about the scandal. It was a good change from it all. And, surprisingly, it was thanks to the young man who was asleep on the other side of his bed. 

San felt a smile on his face as he thought of this, but he wiped it away quickly, knowing it wasn’t something he should’ve been thinking about. 

Soon afterwards, he fell asleep to the sounds of soft breathing across from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wow this was a long-ish chapter [i need to sleep. wut am i doin?]  
> *also, the mingi/yunho story is really smothering me in fluff wtfalksjdalkla >.< they’re making me reconsider the rating for this fic???? but idk :p
> 
> *comments are dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls let me know if i've made any mistakes <3


	7. Chapter 7

Yunho must’ve started dancing when he was . . . born. He couldn’t exactly remember when it had clicked in his head that he was more than good, he was _excellent_. And it was clear to everyone who had seen him growing up and in school. Honestly, it wasn’t hard for him to gain the respect of his community, and even his strict family, that he had a calling when it came to dancing. They knew he would do well, and so did he. Years later, the fruit of his labor had brought him very far. 

It was a difficult lifestyle, but he chose to do it gracefully. Dance was a career that let him travel, it gave him the much-needed freedom he craved at every given moment—something that idol life wouldn’t have offered him. 

Back then, time as a trainee was rather tough, mentally and physically. Yunho knew the ins and outs of that way of life, and he came close to achieving the highest status of idol at one point but—

When companies, specifically his past company, limited his creative freedom with dance, then a problem was going to arise sooner or later. He didn’t want to deal with it. Therefore, he left. 

It was a good decision, and he wasn’t alone in that either. He had grown to know a lot of people, trainees and choreographers, through his experiences. And even though the president and staff had urged him not to leave, he found that he didn’t want to deal with the unnecessary drama. 

What with the whole scandal involving San too, it made him partly relieved. That sounded bad, but Yunho couldn’t lie. Watching these idols, the people he would’ve worked with, go through such terrible things because of the press—

It made him grateful he didn’t have to deal with all of that. 

And instead of going home, he decided to stay in Seoul. It was a location that was convenient, and he’d even met Wooyoung there. He came to realize why so many young trainees flocked to the place. It was full of possibilities. 

Seoul was where he began his dance career, but at times it did exhaust him. Trainee life was painful, and he did _not_ want to repeat it. And so he took up the opportunities presented to him in that city. From there, he became a dance teacher, and then a choreographer, and was also international at one point, teaching classes in LA. 

He’d made dance his life, basically. 

So much, that at one point he’d completely forgotten about actually . . . settling down? Sure he’d had past relationships, but he was still young, and he didn’t really take them seriously most of the time because—he was young? 

But at the same time, with his parents constantly questioning his love life whenever he called to check up on them, he discovered the process only tired him out, and not in a good way. 

He was still young. He didn’t need to worry about that. He was only 28. Marriage and settling down was something he definitely wasn’t considering any time soon. And even if he wanted to, it wasn’t like he’d ever met someone who had seriously caught his interest. 

Okay, maybe there were a few in the past, though what with his career constantly pushing him to move forward, he never managed to save any time to delve into those relationships. 

Dance was his life. It was what had gotten him so far. He felt as if he couldn’t just betray it by going his own way. He knew he had a duty now to help people with it, especially the kids in his class. He loved helping others, and volunteering was very time consuming. The only close relationship he’d gotten recently was with his sudden admiration for a member from this up and coming group called _Ateez_. But even then, that wasn’t real romance. It was just . . . just . . . 

Yunho exhaled shakily as he thought over all of that, knowing full well that some part of himself was lying. Because sometimes he did think of things other than _dancing_. Sometimes he thought of—

What exactly? 

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

# ________

The studio lighting was dim, allowing enough brightness to display the recording equipment on the surface of the desk. It was quiet, all except the small indication of noise coming in from the headphones plugged into the computer, sitting on his lap. 

He’d been working on a beat for the past half hour, listening to see if it was worth it to continue, or if it was something he could simply save for another time. Their album was nearly half-way done anyway. All they needed to do was title some tracks, finish up lyrics, and maybe do another round in the recording studio. Oh, and going over the steps of the new dance was vital too. 

Hongjoong rubbed his eyes, sleepy for the umpteenth time. He hadn’t had a decent amount of sleep in days, weeks, not with the news media constantly hounding him and his manager, as well as his members. 

It was ridiculous, all of the frenzy. Yes a few pictures could tell a million things, but at the same time security cameras in their dance rooms, dorms, and studios could easily tell the public that all they literally did was _work_. 

Now it was partly his duty to help San out with his dilemma. It would take some time, but at least they all had each other. That was why he wasn’t allowing himself to worry much about it. They could get through this. They had before, and they would again. 

He sighed as he heard a knock at the door. 

Jongho poked his head inside, smiling at him. Hongjoong merely turned in his swivel chair, eyes on the computer screen once again, partly ignoring him, partly concealing how tired he appeared. He was used to having his members walk in at random though. Jongho especially was never patient to wait for permission. 

The youngest member closed the door behind him, plopping himself on the leather couch beside his chair. “Hyung . . .” 

Hongjoong looked over his shoulder, eyeing the young man. He’d grown taller than him at that point. Damn, everyone was growing way too fast, “You didn’t go with San?” 

He shook his head and sat forward, hands clasped, “No. No I didn’t.” 

“Why?” Hongjoong turned to him, brow raised. “I thought you and Mingi agreed?” 

“We did but—” Jongho smiled sheepishly, “I think Mingi hyung needs some time to himself too.” 

Hongjoong sat back, pondering. 

It was true the both of them needed quality rest. Mingi and San especially. San had to deal with that scandal, and Mingi was always adding too much pressure on himself (the ambitious Leo energy was strong in that one). And so Hongjoong wasn’t surprised to hear from his observant youngest member that those two deserved a break from everything. 

Though that still didn’t mean they weren’t going to visit. And as much as Seonghwa didn’t want to go, Hongjoong was adamant they all take a road trip there and back, for the sake of staying sane in their line of work. 

“I agree.” Seonghwa was at the door, watching them both. He’d come in so quietly, it made them both jump. “That kid doesn’t know when to stop.” 

Hongjoong nodded silently, watching the ground. 

Maybe this whole situation with Dispatch wasn’t a waste of time. Maybe this was a wake-up call to relax. Because they sure as hell hadn’t had a vacation in years. And he was getting older, well, Seonghwa was, at least. 

He eyed the eldest member and tried not to laugh, but Seonghwa glowered at him anyway from his seated position next to Jongho, “What now?” 

Hongjoong cleared his throat, “It’s good we’re giving them space but—” His expression hardened as he switched from ‘friend’ to ‘leader’. It amused him when his members grew scared of it at times, “But I’m not gonna be happy if we disagree on going.” 

Seonghwa groaned, leaning against the youngest member. Jongho merely stayed where he was, looking a little bored. It was a big sacrifice for him to stay behind. Hongjoong was proud of the youngest’s growing empathy. 

“My throat is killing me.” Seonghwa complained, shielding his eyes from the small glow of the studio light. “I’ll meet with you guys a little later—separately, please.” 

“As long as you show up, that’s fine.” He assured him. 

Jongho raised a finger in the air, “Are they gonna want us to come at all?” 

“They’re going to have to deal with it.” Hongjoong said. His tone indicated that he was slightly excited to see how those two would react to seeing the rest of their members there, against the backdrop of farms and country. 

“They could at least bring back some nice people.” Seonghwa muttered. The bags beneath his eyes were clear that he was _done_. As the eldest in the group, watching his younger members go through such conflict was heartbreaking for him. Hongjoong couldn’t blame him for not feeling up to anything. 

“Like . . . to marry?” Jongho questioned, watching both he and Hongjoong. “Are you serious?” 

“Does it look like I’m joking?” Seonghwa had his fingers to his temples, eyes shut. It didn’t look like he was joking. 

Hongjoong cut in, before they could go overboard with this suggestion. Because he had mentioned something similar to San before he left. He just never thought the other members would take it into consideration as well. 

“I guess you’re right, but—” He ran a hand through his hair, thinking a mile a minute. “We should just observe, for now.” 

Jongho rubbed his hands diabolically, looking every bit the youngest member he was, “Mingi and San, finally thinking about something other than work?” He feigned surprise, “That’ll be interesting.” 

“Agreed.” Seonghwa replied. 

Hongjoong sighed again, smiling quietly at them. 

It was evident they had tired themselves out over this comeback. And what with the issue with Dispatch, the pressure only added up, until they became quite literally too exhausted. But the idea that San and Mingi were distracted from all of that—well, it made him feel relieved? Because they weren’t robots. They were still human, just like everyone else. 

Now, if only Dispatch knew that.

# ________

“Oh shit, I’m really, _really_ sorry—” 

The guy kneeling on the floor scrambled to pick up the charger that had slid across the dance room. The place was half lit, but Mingi could clearly see the length of the man’s legs as he bent to pick up his charging device. He was tall. 

And as far as Mingi could tell, they were the only ones in the building, or, just in this room. So the noise he’d heard in the bathroom must’ve been this guy entering the school? He internally sighed in relief at the revelation. He had nothing to be scared of in the first place. 

Truthfully, when he’d first entered the opened room, he was a bit terrified to see what he would find, but—this was a pleasant surprise. It must’ve just been another dancer, or a teacher. The man definitely had the physique of a professional dancer. 

Mingi forced his attention back up to the man’s eyes, “It’s—it’s okay, I can come back in an hour.” 

The stranger turned to watch him, still with a somewhat surprised expression. “N-no, that’s fine. _I’ll_ leave—” 

It seemed as if he didn’t want anything to do with Mingi. That was fair. Most people, upon first impression, found him quite intimidating. In fact, most of the time he was the complete opposite of what he appeared. 

He gave the guy an apologetic smile, “No. I feel kind of selfish for keeping the entire room for only myself—” 

“I can’t.” The man cut him off. He was on his feet now, backpack embraced in his arms. “That’s impossible.” 

Mingi fell silent for a few moments. 

Had he done or said something to offend the guy? Or was he simply just shy? Or maybe . . . “Why?” He asked him. He was thoroughly curious. 

The dancer shifted where he stood as he watched Mingi cross his arms, ready for an answer. But in the end, all Mingi got was a, “Because . . .” 

At that, Mingi laughed. 

The guy opened his mouth to say more, but closed it in an instant. It looked as if he had something important to tell Mingi, though it was becoming harder and harder for him to say it as the seconds passed by. 

Mingi couldn’t blame him. Finding some random stranger in the school’s dance room was kind of surprising. Hell, Mingi was sort of feeling the exact same way. If this was a teacher, then the guy must’ve been even more confused as to why Mingi was there. 

“I don’t mind sharing.” Mingi confessed, rubbing his neck. His skin had grown hot. Or had the room gotten hotter? He couldn’t tell. 

This was the first time in a long time that he’d spoken with . . . a regular person? Could he call him that? Well, it was true. He’d only ever had his childhood friends, his staff, and other idols as his acquaintances. Mingi was probably just rusty with his people-skills. 

“I think I should just—” The man took a step forward, brushing past Mingi, “I should just leave—” 

Mingi was taken aback. Hadn’t he been nice to this guy throughout this entire, awkward conversation? What was his deal? 

“Wait, please.” He took the man’s arm quickly, without thinking. It was just out of instinct, as if he _didn’t_ want him to leave. It confused him, and it looked like it had confused the guy too, because he was staring back at Mingi expectantly, confusedly. 

Mingi just stayed there, unable to say anything.

# ________

Yunho had said all of those things about love. About not wanting it, and about not seriously thinking about it. In reality, it was something that had been on his mind, which probably wasn’t a good thing. He had work and the school to worry about, and so many other things. 

He had so much on his plate, that he’d completely forgotten about love—until he had come across something completely random one day. A dance video. A cover, to be exact, just like all the other covers he’d seen floating around as a dancer. 

And for some unknowable reason, the guy in that particular video was currently grabbing his arm, in the school’s dance room, not wanting him to leave. 

Why? 

Yunho should’ve been able to stay calm too. He was freaking out, and it was so uncharacteristic of him to do so. He simply needed to take a breath and revert to his usually cool, friendly self. So why was it so hard in that moment? He’d met celebrities before. It wasn’t unusual in his line of work. He’d been a back-up dancer for countless groups, big and small. He’d also encountered famous choreographers as well. This should’ve been a piece of cake to him. 

“Wait, please.” The man he recognized pleaded, voice deeper than any recording Yunho had ever listened to. 

Yunho shook his head, still not believing his eyes. This was most likely the look-alike he’d seen earlier in the day. It wasn’t that one guy from _Ateez_. There was no reason that idol would be there, in that small town, in that specific dance room. 

Yeah. No. It was definitely not him. No matter how much he reminded Yunho of him, it was impossible to say that it was in fact—

“Sorry.” Yunho tried for a smile, but failed in the face of that . . . familiar face. 

But still—! It wasn’t him. It _wasn’t_. Though at the same time it was easier for Yunho to pretend it wasn’t him. 

The man slipped an easy smile at him, bright, and this time not as forceful as before. It was a relaxed expression, one that eased Yunho into a state of calm, for the moment. 

“How about we start off with names?” The stranger suggested. 

Yunho sent him a slight nod, remaining confused as to why his arm was still being grabbed, “Yunho . . .” He managed, “My name’s Yunho.” 

“Mingi.” The man told him. 

Yunho froze. 

_What?_

# ________

“Okay now I really have to leave.” The guy named Yunho said. 

“Wait.” Mingi stopped him again. The pulse beneath the guy’s wrists was quick, rapid, almost like he was nervous. “Listen.” He tried to assure the taller man he wasn’t going to get mad. “How about we share the dance room?” 

He refused to meet his eyes, but he did respond, “U-um . . . I don’t know . . .” 

“You’re a dancer, right?” Maybe he could convince him to stay by asking him for something, anything. “You can . . . you can help me with something, if you can.” 

At that remark, the guy’s eyes shot up to his instantly, “Pardon?” 

Mingi paused for a second, just thinking to himself on what he could do to keep the guy there. Honestly, he had no idea why he was doing all of this for him anyway. He most likely felt bad for scaring him and taking over the dance room. 

He gave up, “The new steps to this dance. I may need your help with it.” 

“Why?” The other said. 

Mingi shrugged, “You’re a dancer.” 

The guy’s face flushed slightly. Was Mingi embarrassing him? He didn’t want that. He wanted . . . what? 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” He said. He sounded honest. But Mingi wasn’t sure why he was refusing. Had he said something he shouldn’t have? He didn’t remember doing that at all. 

Mingi thought over all of this, including everything that’d occurred before and after their conversation. It was a simple plea, asking a dancer for help in regards to certain steps. And in reality, Mingi actually did need the help. He wasn’t simply begging the man to stay just because he felt bad. He knew it was essential to have a second eye, to point out any obvious mistakes in the choreo—

He pondered, thinking about it. He should’ve known sooner that maybe this stranger knew him from the recent choreographies and covers he’d released. Did the guy know he was an idol? 

“Do you . . . do you know me, perhaps?” Mingi asked, to test the waters. It was a far-fetched question, but not an unlikely one. He was rather famous, though he hadn’t expected to be recognized in such a small and out-of-the-way farming town. 

“I do.” 

“Yunho—” He tried the name on his tongue, but stopped when he heard the man answer with an ‘ _I do_ ’. 

So he _did_ know who Mingi was. Yeah, this was all a reaction from recognizing Mingi as a member of _Ateez_. 

No wonder he’d been surprised and eager to leave him alone. He was being respectful. Mingi knew the same feeling, especially during music shows when he came across certain sunbaenims. It was overwhelming sometimes. But since it was just him, just Mingi, he was never used to having people get so nervous around him. As much as a celebrity he was, he still couldn’t believe it sometimes. 

“I know who you are.” Yunho confessed, staring down at Mingi’s hand, still grasped onto his arm. 

Mingi let go of him immediately, taking a step back to give the guy space, “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” He answered, rubbing at the spot where Mingi had grabbed him quite forcefully. “You just surprised me . . . a lot . . .” 

“I’m sorry.” Mingi said for the second time, awkwardly. He was certain he would apologize a million more times after this. 

Yunho smiled at him, small but still there. It made Mingi feel relieved. 

Wait—

What? 

“I-I just—I just wanted a bit of help with—” Mingi stumbled on his words, this time feeling more embarrassed than the both of them combined. He ran his fingers through his bangs, “I’ve gotta learn a new choreo by next month. Sorry.” 

“I can help.” Yunho said calmly, it sent a wave of relief over Mingi once more. “I—I admire the choreos you make—” He stopped himself, and then continued with, “Your _group_ choreos— _Ateez_ choreos . . .” 

Mingi nodded, “Thanks.” 

They stood there, enveloped in silence. 

It wasn’t as uncomfortable as it was before? That was good. What wasn’t good, was that now Mingi was starting to realize that he had probably forced this guy to help him. He didn’t seem like an overly-excited fan, or saesang, thank goodness. Instead, he was pretty chill once he’d calmed down. Was he even a fan, really? Or was he just being nice? 

Well, as a professional dancer, he must’ve known _Ateez_. Mingi was most likely just another face amid the endless list of main dancer idols this guy knew. 

That definitely didn’t make him feel any worse. 

Nope. 

“Then, I’ll be in your care.” Mingi shook those thoughts away, replacing them with more positive things. One, he’d made a new friend. Two, the guy was a dancer. Three . . . 

Yunho placed his bag down against the mirrored wall as he walked to the center of the room, stretching his arms above his head. He must’ve been just slightly taller than Mingi. It made him quite jealous. 

“I guess I’ll . . . be in your care too, then.” The taller man said, smiling at him before turning away quickly to look elsewhere, still obviously shaken up. It was clearly evident.

Mingi watched him as he did so, feeling strange. 

He couldn’t exactly remember the third reason as to why he suddenly felt so happy.

# ________

“I have to ask,” Jongho walked up to match his pace as they left Hongjoong’s studio. The younger member looked at him with a curious gaze and a question on his lips. 

Seonghwa stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, slowing down his strides as they stepped through the halls of their company. It was late. “What?” 

“Just . . .” Jongho scratched his head, “I’ve never seen Mingi hyung bring anyone for us to meet? I mean—” 

“You’re asking about his type?” Seonghwa scoffed at the younger’s blunt question. It wasn’t shocking to know that people would be curious. Seonghwa, personally, cared very much for all of his members. The 99 liners held a rather special place in his heart—so it didn’t strike him as odd that he would know about all of that. Hongjoong probably didn’t know that much. Probably. 

Seonghwa was, admittedly, very competitive when it came to the kids. Hongjoong was, as the members had called him many times before, the strict _father_. But Seonghwa, in all the years they knew one another, aimed to be the _cool_ father. 

Truth be told, he didn’t know if they even perceived him as that. 

Jongho laughed, “Yeah, yeah because I’ve never seen him dating anyone publicly.” 

“He generally likes people who are outgoing.” Seonghwa told him. They’d stopped in front of the elevator. He watched as the youngest pressed the button to go downstairs. “But I’ve also heard him say he likes people who dance.” 

“Dancers . . .” Jongho thought to himself, holding his chin in deep thought. 

Seonghwa side-eyed him, “You’re not thinking of setting him up with someone, right?” 

Jongho faked a smile. Seonghwa could see right through it. “No way, hyung~ I would never . . .” 

He exhaled, “Well whatever.” He said. It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t actually care. It would’ve been nice to see their rapper finally dating. “As long as they’re tall.” 

“So he likes tall people, huh?” Jongho replied. The elevator doors slid open as he said this. “Hyung? Can I ask _you_ something?” 

Seonghwa stepped into the elevator, not waiting for the other to catch up. He was tired, and the vocal exercises he’d done for hours were starting to hurt his throat. He could barely speak. “What now?” 

“What’s _your_ type?” Jongho asked. 

He glared at the young man. 

That question surprised him. But he wasn’t going to be easy. “None of your business.” 

Jongho smiled to himself as the elevator doors closed behind them. “Ah, okay . . .” 

They grew silent as they descended. 

The music coming from Hongjoong’s studio was really all they could hear as they let their abruptly finished conversation hang in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *it feels so strange not writing for Wooyoung & San :p  
> *yunho/mingi when will u 2 interact more ?! -__-
> 
> *comments are dearly appreciated <3  
> *please lmk if there are any mistakes <3


	8. Chapter 8

He dreamt of everything that was occurring in Seoul. 

The first time he’d seen his name, solely his name, on Dispatch, was a few weeks back when his group had just ended promotions for their last song. At first, it seemed innocent—just a small, insignificant dating rumor. But as the days progressed, it appeared as if the public had taken a bad turn with it. 

Unfortunately, someone else had stepped in, without proof, and had told a reporter that San had been cheating . . .? 

He remembered the last time he’d ever dated someone. It must’ve been two years since then. And even though it had never worked out for simple reasons, he was still shaken up by how difficult it was to go through with it. 

San worried about what the other party would have to deal with if he ever took up dating again. With this scandal, it seemed as if his hope had dwindled, or—it had assured him of his suspicions. He would never date under his title as an idol. 

But then again, the amount of support from his fans was overwhelming. Atiny were really the most important thing to him. And to see them giving him such love and trust over this issue—well, it gave him a lot of the emotional support he needed to get through it. 

What surprised him the most out of all of this though, was the fact that they remained supporting him, even with the knowledge that he was _dating_. Therefore, he held faith they would support him if he chose to do so in the future. 

Even his friends, and family, they were all supportive of him. _Everyone_. But at the same time, it seemed like everything was against him as well. 

He couldn’t win. 

All he could do was prep himself for the next comeback, and afterwards, a few of his members would sign up for their mandatory military service. So, it looked as if San was going to have to prepare himself for yet another challenge. 

Damn, he was so busy. And what with all of these things happening, he knew it was going to be even more impossible to contact his parents and family. Just when did his life become so hectic? Oh yeah, it had started when he’d first stepped foot in KQ Entertainment with his one-size-too-big business suit and loose tie. 

He didn’t regret it. The life he’d chosen brought him far, despite the troubles. But it was those troubles that made him remember that this scandal wasn’t going to destroy him. His company was taking care of legal matters, his members were thriving in their own future solo plans, and San, he was just glad he could take a break from it all, to spend time with his family, his hometown, and—

The morning light shone down on him from where he lay on his left side. It was a warm morning, very unlike the cold, wet mornings in Seoul. To him, it was the best way to wake up, without hearing the incessant noises of cars and undying traffic one hears constantly in the city. 

This morning, all he could hear were the birds singing on the cherry blossom trees outside, and even his mom making breakfast in the kitchen. Sunday mornings were always his favorite. He couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed one in the comfort of his own childhood home. 

He let himself relax for a while, simply laying there, breathing in the scent of breakfast and flowers in the air. His mom loved flowers, and often put them all around the house. She even had a huge garden in the back, near that new gazebo his dad had built. 

It was so peaceful, San had almost forgotten how strangely warm it all was in his room. He was nearly sweating, even though he hadn’t wrapped himself in a blanket before sleeping. 

Wait—

He opened his eyes, watching his fuzzy vision fade out into a clear picture. 

Wooyoung was sleeping opposite of him, closer than last night, and grasping onto San’s shirt with nimble fingers. What confused him though, was the fact that he had his arm’s around the sleeping man, as if San had been embracing him in his sleep. 

For a minute, he contemplated how he got himself into that certain position. It wasn’t a surprising thing to happen. When it came to sleeping with others, one normally found themselves in each other’s space in the morning. Right? 

For another long minute, San pondered as to how _Wooyoung_ came from the other side of the big bed, only to latch himself onto San like a small koala. Had he been cold? Had he thought San was a huge pillow? 

He tried to find an answer to all of his questions, but figured it was a waste of time to do so. This young man who was still sleeping, dreaming, breathing so, _so_ softly against San’s neck, was someone who couldn’t be disturbed. 

Sure San wanted to get up and leave, but he would’ve felt bad if he’d done that. Plus, he technically didn’t want Wooyoung to wake up. This time, San had awoken before he did. It was a golden opportunity to observe just what had happened on that first morning. 

Luckily, as ten minutes went by, neither his mom, nor Mingi, came to wake them up. Wooyoung, even though San had slowly began untangling himself from the man’s hold, remained sleeping throughout it all. 

San unlatched himself from the smaller individual eventually, making sure that his arms and hands separated themselves completely from him. Wooyoung was, he had to admit, really strong. He must’ve been an accomplished dancer. 

After he’d freed himself, he halted for a moment to watch as Wooyoung’s expression hardened, as if the guy recognized the source of warmth was gone. It was then that San guessed it was both of their faults. San was a clingy person to begin with. And judging by what he witnessed last night during dinner, Wooyoung was also a touchy person. In the end, they couldn’t do anything about it. They would just have to put up with this until either one of them agreed to leave the bed, which, was going to be impossible. 

San placed a finger to his temple, clearly frustrated with this revelation. He didn’t mind this situation (it partly reminded him of his trainee days), but he was afraid of what Wooyoung would say. He knew the man didn’t like him, it was clear. San only wished he knew of some way they could be . . . friends. 

He laid on his side, leaning against the bed headboard. He watched as Wooyoung curled in on himself, now grasping onto the covers instead. His bed head was insane, but it was cute—

Quickly, he stopped himself there. 

Just what had he been thinking about? 

He got up from his position to sit at the edge of his bed, rubbing his palms across his face. Maybe he was still dreaming? Maybe he was still delirious and sleepy? 

Carefully, he turned to steal a glance at the sleeping man. Wooyoung had stayed fast asleep. He thought that maybe it would’ve been a good idea to wake him up, but he came to the conclusion that San was most likely the last thing Wooyoung wanted to see when he awoke. 

That was a sad thought, though San had to agree. Wooyoung didn’t like him. And somehow that hurt more than looking at his name splattered across Dispatch headlines.

# ________

Wooyoung had spent the majority of his morning walking around town aimlessly. It wasn’t because he was bored, but because he’d been so caught up in his thoughts, that he’d completely forgotten about time. 

And Yunho was nowhere to be found. Wooyoung had wanted to spill his guts out to his friend, but found that the missing man had more important matters to attend to. Judging by the ominous texts in the morning, Wooyoung figured that when Yunho said ‘Sorry! I’m busy!’, it immediately translated to an ‘Don’t disturb me right now Wooyoung~! I’ll explain later~ Promise~!’. 

Wooyoung was thoroughly miffed with everyone. 

First off, there was Yunho, who, was out there being ‘busy’ with something. Second, his temporary roommate hadn’t been there in the morning, so, he must’ve seen Wooyoung drooling in his sleep. And thirdly . . . he was just annoyed, with everything. And he prayed that last night he didn’t curl up to San while sleeping like he did the day before. If he had then—that would’ve been embarrassing. He did _not_ want San to see him like that. 

Also, he couldn’t remember why that guy’s name was so familiar. He must’ve known a dancer named San, or maybe he’d previously met someone in Seoul with the same name? It would’ve been smart to catch the man’s full name, though Wooyoung didn’t have the guts to go through with it. It would be easier to ask why he looked and sounded so familiar. Wooyoung could do that. Probably. 

He ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time. It was a habit of his. And he looked around at the area he’d just stepped into. 

It was a residential neighborhood, very ordinary and empty, with a few old homes here and there. The home he was renting out was to his left, appearing very welcoming, comforting. It was a big home, but most of that space had been taken up by the Taekwondo studio and the backyard, filled to the brim with bushes and flowers and herbs. 

He took the small stone walkway on the side of the house, watching as the flowers to his right and left dragged across his palms and jeans. Everytime he entered the house, he found he always smelled like the garden. 

Wooyoung breathed in the afternoon air, taking in the silence and the sound of the breeze from the nearby cherry blossom trees. Spring was a favorite season of his, since the sun was always out and the flowers were in full bloom. It was a season of new beginnings and rebirth. Something that he admired, personally. 

What he didn’t favor though, was the fact that the backyard he’d so shortly admired wasn’t in fact as empty as he’d like. In place of solitude, a disturbance was currently beneath the gazebo, face turned away from Wooyoung and onto the looming sun in the horizon. 

Wooyoung crossed his arms then, clearing his throat so that the man could look his way. When he did, Wooyoung cocked a brow at him, “Enjoying the view?” 

The intruder, San, watched him from his position. It looked like he’d disrupted his moment of deep thinking. For a small second, Wooyoung felt slightly guilty for speaking up. 

San gave him a half-smile, forced, “I don’t know.” 

Wooyoung dropped his hands to place them in his pockets. Slowly, he strode up the gazebo, placing one arm against the stair railing, looking up to the taller man, “What exactly are you doing?” 

San rocked on his heels and shrugged. Wooyoung didn’t mean to sound so persistent, but he was bored, so . . . 

“Honestly . . .” San’s forced smile faded, “Mom wants me to teach her how to waltz.” 

Wooyoung scoffed, “What?” 

“She knows I dance—and—” He searched for his words as he spoke. “And I sort of promised I would help? My parents’ anniversary is coming up—” 

“And you don’t know how to waltz.” Wooyoung guessed. 

San nodded. 

Wooyoung sighed deeply. 

Why was it so hard for people to ask for help? Though he guessed San didn’t want it. But Wooyoung was a professional dancer. So why had no one asked him? 

This made him even more annoyed. He was there in that town to help these kids with dancing. It was his duty. 

He brought himself up the steps of the gazebo and faced San, crossing his arms once more at him. San was sort of taken aback by Wooyoung’s sudden presence, but he didn’t waver. 

“I’ll teach you.” Wooyoung told him, outstretching his hands. Did he have to do everything around here? “I’m a professional dancer.” 

“I know.” San said. This time his smile looked genuine. It made Wooyoung want to take a step back. They were getting too friendly for his taste. 

He cleared his throat again, shifting into position, “Then how about you take my waist?” 

Without hesitation, San stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Wooyoung’s waist. Their personal space had been decimated in a matter of seconds. Wooyoung didn’t know what to do with himself, until he remembered he’d done this millions of times. Why did this have to differ from those other occasions? 

He shook his head, “No, _take_ my waist.” 

San partly unhooked himself from Wooyoung, giving them a few inches of much-needed space. He’d felt so eager to learn. “Are my placements correct now?” San asked. His hand firmly grasped Wooyoung’s waist, while his other interlocked their hands tightly, correctly, ready to waltz. 

Wooyoung nodded, “Yeah.” 

San gazed down at him, grinning at his accomplishment. 

“ _Almost_ correctly.” Wooyoung corrected himself. He let go of San for a moment to press their hands against each other’s hearts. The man’s chest was warm, fluttering with life. It reminded him of what was really important when it came to waltzing, and of course dancing in general. 

San waited for him to speak. He appeared confused as to what Wooyoung was doing, but he remained listening, waiting. 

Wooyoung grasped the man’s shirt, “The heart is important too.” He advised him, eyes locked onto one another. “Make sure you’re touching all the _right_ places when you dance with a partner.” 

San stared at the hand atop Wooyoung’s heart. His eyes indicated that he understood. That was good. That was basically what Wooyoung had first learned when he’d started dancing. 

_Dancing was one way to touch the hearts of others._

“All the right places.” San repeated him. “I’ll remember that.”

# ________

“Good.” Wooyoung told him. 

San was having a bit of trouble concentrating, but with the help of this particular teacher, it was proving to be successful. He was always a quick learner, and Wooyoung was turning out to be a great instructor. Back when he’d first started as a trainee, dancing had come naturally to him, but it was still hard. Now, as a professional, San found that it was never easier, though it was always good to keep an open mind to new forms of dance. 

Back in Seoul, Mingi was the one to usually lead their group when it came to learning new choreographies. San grew to watch him as he did so, and managed to become the lead dancer. It was an accomplishment he was proud of, but it was also a very large weight to carry on his shoulders. 

Where was Mingi anyway? San hadn’t seen him all day yesterday, and neither in the morning. It was evident he’d slept in the living room last night, but the actual guest had failed to show up for breakfast _again_. Just what had Mingi so distracted? Or _who_? 

Wooyoung snapped his fingers in front of his eyes, gaining his attention. Throughout most of their dancing, San had spaced out. He no longer knew how many minutes had passed as Wooyoung taught him endless steps. 

Though he could tell by the setting of the sun that they’d done their fair share of dancing. Learning how to waltz was kind of easy. Just swaying back and forth, making sure you weren’t stepping on your partner, and keeping a good posture, were pretty much all he needed to know. 

Or maybe Wooyoung was just a good teacher? San did hear from his mom that the guy had been a dance instructor for years. It was clear, when San watched him move, the way he carried himself. Honestly, he was excited to see him in action. 

“Spacing out.” Wooyoung told him. 

San’s eyes shot up to his immediately. He’d been staring at their footwork, hypnotized by the motions they’d made on the floor. “Sorry.” 

Wooyoung gave him a stern look. “But you’re doing well.” 

“I am?” San tightened his grasp on the waist he was currently holding. It made Wooyoung jump. “S-sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” His instructor said. Surprisingly, Wooyoung placed his own hand atop San’s, keeping it secure. “Partners are bound to be taken on the dance floor.” He told him, “It’s good you’re keeping a firm hold on me.” 

San immediately felt a bit too warm around his ears. This conversation, if eavesdropped, could be taken the wrong way by anyone who didn’t know them. “ . . . okay.” 

Wooyoung stared up at him. Their height differences weren’t so apparent when they were standing apart, but since they were currently so close, it was easy to tell who was taller. “But, yeah, you’re doing fine . . .” 

They fell into a silence for a good five minutes. 

It wasn’t awkward, nor was it unlikeable. San was actually grateful they were doing something other than arguing. That was definitely a good step in the right direction. 

He only needed to find a way to make sure they wouldn’t be at each other’s throats anymore. Especially if they weren’t going to agree on who rightfully owned that bed. Because San sure as hell knew it belonged to only him. Wooyoung was a _guest_ , and so he needed to stay on the couch. 

But the whole point of the matter was—San couldn’t say all of that, due to the fact that Wooyoung would throw another tantrum over it. 

They couldn’t win, but San was so fucking tired of not winning in anything. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Wooyoung. The other man was looking away, staring into the garden, as if also hypnotized. Truthfully speaking, San had barely registered how unique the guy’s features were. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now that he was this close, it was easier to view. 

Unlike San, Wooyoung’s hair was naturally brown, almost black. And without fake lenses (he’d seen those countless times, he didn’t know what real eyes looked like anymore), the brown pigment reflected the setting afternoon sun nicely. Everything about him was raw, real, and San really just wanted to drink up this opportunity to be with someone who wasn’t putting on a show, or a performance for the sake of anyone’s eyes but his own. 

It was mesmerizing. 

Wooyoung turned to him suddenly, now aware that San had been staring at him for quite a while. Those eyes were more soft than striking. “What . . .?” 

San tried and failed to form coherent words in his mouth, but it was tough. His eyes had landed momentarily to the man’s lips. They were a little chapped from the hot weather. “Nothing—I just—” He ran through possible explanations in his mind. 

“I don’t know much about you either.” Wooyoung cut him off, saving him from total embarrassment. “What do you do exactly?” 

_Fuck_

“Um . . . well . . . I . . .” San felt even more tongue tied than previously. Was it now the time to reveal who he was? But then Wooyoung would probably hate him even more—! “I do some things here and there—like, um, helping people . . . and stuff . . .” 

“How so?” Wooyoung gazed at him expectantly. 

“I . . . I donate whatever I earn to charity. And I—help people whenever they’re in tough situations,” San was telling the truth, so why did it sound like he was still trying to look for his words? “I dance . . . too.” 

Wooyoung’s expression wasn’t helping him. If anything, he looked even more confused than before. Thankfully though, he replied with an, “Oh. Thought you were a businessman or something.” 

San blinked. For the first time in their difficult conversation, he felt the need to laugh? “Me?” 

“Yeah, well, you look rich. You _are_ rich.” Wooyoung spread his arms out to show him the difference in their attire. San hadn’t even known or realized it at all. “And your hair.” 

“My—?” San laughed. “I didn’t want my hair to be this color.” 

Wooyoung tilted his head, confused again. 

Whoops. 

“I mean—!” He averted his gaze from his dancing teacher, “I think I’ll pick a new color for the next—” He changed his words, “For the next time I go back to Seoul.” 

“Oh.” Wooyoung said. Thankfully, he sounded disinterested. “Wish I could dye my hair . . .” 

San stopped their slow dancing to look into his eyes. Something had hit him as he heard those words, “I think—I think you look great with this color, actually.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes widened. 

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

_Why did he say that?_

San coughed, to break the tension. It didn’t work. “I mean, you can do whatever you want, I just—” His voice felt small, “I could never pull it off—” 

“No, you’d . . . look great in it too.” Wooyoung’s eyes fluttered as he looked away from him, hand gripping his more tightly. “Just—just so you know—” He returned to dancing slowly, this time leading San. “And . . . thank you, for saying that.” 

San did a curt nod, not speaking anymore. 

It was good to not say anything further. He didn’t want to prolong this conversation. He didn’t even know what they were doing or saying or suggesting. A short while ago they’d been glaring at each other, and now—

“You can dip me,” Wooyoung cut through his thoughts like a knife. 

Those words confused him, “Dip?” 

It took him a whole two seconds to realize that he was talking about _dancing_. Damn, San was hopeless when it came to feeling like—like . . . _what_? 

Wooyoung took San’s right hand and placed it higher above the waist, interlocking their fingers in his left. San merely followed his dance teacher’s silent instructions, and took a step back when Wooyoung took a step forward. 

_What are you thinking, San?_ He thought to himself. _You don’t know this guy._

They stood closer as the mandatory steps proceeded. Wooyoung took San’s hand tightly, and held his other arm firmly, making sure he wouldn’t fall back. 

But San already knew he wouldn’t let go in the first place. He couldn’t. 

“Now . . . dip,” Wooyoung told him. 

San obeyed, and dipped Wooyoung slowly, bringing himself over his dance teacher as he did so. From this position, he could see the other’s eyes closer. Wooyoung’s messy bangs had even fallen away, for a clearer view of his face. 

_Wow_. 

“Am I—am I doing it correctly?” He stopped himself from thinking about everything. About dancing, teaching, dipping, holding, and _eyes_ . . . 

Wooyoung smiled this time. He _smiled_ at San, and San could only look on as he tried to figure out why it felt like his heart was in his throat. He had no idea what was going on inside his head either. He felt muddled. 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung said, bringing himself back up easily. He stared down at San’s hands, still gripping onto him securely. For once, he looked like a proud teacher watching a student. Very unlike the dismissive eyes he’d seen over their two days of being together. San came to the conclusion that he liked this more than anything. “You’ve got a good hold on all the right places.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *i don't know how to waltz :D  
>  
> 
> *comments are dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls lmk if there are any mistakes <3


	9. Chapter 9

The comeback had made it near to impossible to acquire any free time. He didn’t mind. Honestly, he couldn’t wait until they headed back to finally drop the song, but—

He didn’t know. It felt like two sides of him were constantly clashing against one another. It was annoying as fuck. If only he could pay attention a little more to what was in front of him. 

Yunho looked at him in the dance room mirror when Mingi suddenly stopped to catch his breath. The studio was getting a lot cooler, since late night was fastly approaching. But like all dance rooms, the heat never really did leave for good. 

They were both sweating, Mingi could see it as Yunho threw his head back, breathing deeply, catching his breath. The sweat slid down his temple and into the crease of his shirt collar. 

Mingi turned from him to wipe at his own brow, aware of how his hair was plastered to his forehead. He had blue hair now, but with the sweat it appeared more black than anything. 

Yunho abandoned his position to sit on the floor, running his hands through his matted fringe as Mingi merely watched on. 

Inside, he was thinking about how talented this new guy was. Mingi was a great dancer, though Yunho could’ve easily swiped that main dancer position from him. Had he been a trainee before? Or a trainer? The way he moved indicated he’d received a lesson or two from a company. 

He didn’t want to voice his thoughts aloud though. Bringing up the subject of trainees always made things awkward for some reason. Most likely because that part of someone’s life was usually the hardest. 

Mingi agreed. His trainee life had been grueling, and what with their pre-debut training in LA as well, he knew just how difficult a path he had to walk to get to where he was now. 

So . . . what should he say?! 

Despite his great diction and bright personality, it was still hard trying to make a new friend with someone who was a complete stranger. And Mingi hadn’t done that in such a long time, he felt rusty. 

Would asking him out to dinner be too much? Would the guy take it the wrong way? Of course he would. It wasn’t like Mingi wanted to ask him out on a . . . date. They were only friends! New, new friends that barely just met! 

He fisted his hands in his hair and laid back on the dance room floor, clearly frustrated with the annoying thoughts floating around his head. 

This wasn’t going as he had planned. 

“Should we end it here?” Yunho called out to him from his side. 

Mingi looked up to find the taller individual watching with him with a tilt of his head. It was endearing, “Y-yeah. Yeah, we should.” 

Yunho got up then, rummaging through his bag to bring out a water bottle. Mingi wanted to do the same, but found that with his sudden vacation mode on, it was harder to switch back to idol. He felt tired as fuck. 

And the other man must’ve seen this, because he shot Mingi a small smile, “It’s getting late.” 

Mingi just nodded, “I’m getting hungry too . . .” 

“Should we . . . resume this tomorrow?” Yunho scratched the back of his neck, turning away from Mingi as he said so. 

He didn’t know what to say. But he knew what he felt. It felt great having someone help him out with the choreography. And Yunho was amazing when it came to perfecting some very difficult moves. And he wasn’t a bad guy either. In the time they spent with one another, the awkwardness seemed to fade. Maybe it was their natural Aries/Leo compatibility? Or maybe they were just naturally social people? 

But at the same time, they couldn’t deny how stiff the air had become when Yunho had hinted at how they were going to depart. 

Mingi cleared his throat, “Y-Yunho . . .” 

Yunho placed his water bottle down and gazed at him. Mingi was still on the floor, and the other was leaning slightly over him. He hadn’t noticed how close they’d gotten. 

He continued, “Would you . . . consider becoming my . . . dance partner . . . for the remaining time I’m here?” He watched as Yunho’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “I just—! I just need someone to look over the choreography with me.” 

Yunho was silent for a good moment. It made Mingi kinda nervous but ultimately relieved when the older nodded slowly, answering his question without having to speak. 

Mingi grinned, “Great.” He outstretched his hand for Yunho to shake. “Thank you, so much.” 

Yunho shook it, “No problem.” 

They stayed there, holding their handshake for a second too long before Mingi brought his arm back, feeling slightly embarassed. 

“So about dinner—” Mingi began, but Yunho got up suddenly, unintentionally cutting him off. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then!” Yunho said so brightly, Mingi could only return a forced smile. He hadn’t heard him. Dammit. 

Mingi stayed where he was currently laying, eyeing as Yunho quickly grabbed his bag and bolted out of the room without so much as one last glance. He had even left his waterbottle. 

Mingi stared at the empty doorway, crestfallen. 

He’d wanted to ask him out to dinner but—he was too slow. And was it just him, or did Yunho want to leave that quickly? Had Mingi been unpleasant? 

Tiredly, he placed his palms against his face and groaned. He needed some advice, asap. And he knew where he was going to get it. He hadn’t seen San in hours. His member was probably wondering where Mingi was. 

Well, it was already late. Would San be asleep by then?

# ________

They were sitting on San’s bed, lights on as it had neared midnight. Off in the corner, the heater was glowing red, blasting warm air in their general direction because it had gotten cold as the daylight hours dwindled. 

Mingi was currently hugging a body pillow to his chest, back against the wall as San watched him uneasily. “So you tried asking him out to dinner, but you were rejected?” 

“Yes . . .?” Mingi answered. “Not really . . .?” 

“That’s rough, buddy.” San said, clearly trying to make Mingi feel a little better about the situation. 

“He technically didn’t hear me . . .?” Mingi told him, pressing his face to the pillow. “Or maybe he didn’t want to hear me . . .?” 

“You literally just met the guy.” San reminded him. “Just ask him next time. Tomorrow, right? He’s a teacher, isn’t he?” 

Mingi nodded once more. 

It was true they would be teachers at that school. They would be seeing each other everyday, along with the extra practice hours they agreed to spend looking over the choreography. 

San eyed him wearily. Mingi hadn’t seen his friend in practically a day. Tomorrow was Monday, therefore they would begin their new jobs. 

It was all nerve wracking.

# ________

“You totally ignored him and ran away when he was about to ask you out to dinner?” Wooyoung asked him. 

Yunho sat back in the booth. They were both in their favorite bar, not willing to get up and leave. They’d been drinking, again, and all because Yunho just needed one. 

He hadn’t mentioned that the guy in mind was actually Mingi of _Ateez_. If Wooyoung knew, then he would’ve most likely caused a scene in the establishment. Yunho didn’t want to draw attention to the idol. 

Wooyoung sat forward to get a better look at him, “Are you crazy?” 

“What? It’s not like I _want_ to go out with him—” Yunho tried to say, but it sounded almost like a lie. Well, they were going to eventually see Mingi again. By then, Wooyoung would realize just exactly what was occurring. 

“Okay then.” His friend said, taking a swig of his beer. “Your parents aren’t going to like this. Don’t they _want_ you to date?” 

“Nobody is dating anyone.” Yunho stated firmly. 

Wooyoung sighed under his breath. He was only looking out for him. Yunho was thankful for that. But the thought of . . . _Mingi_ . . . asking him _out_ (which he definitely didn’t!) just made him extremely confused. 

_It was as if a crush had asked you out. You wouldn’t believe it at all._

“I’m only teasing you.” Wooyoung said, punching his arm lightly from across the table. He gave Yunho a sheepish look. “Payback, for last time.” 

Yunho exhaled, “ . . . right.” 

“ And how bad can it be?” The other said, shrugging, “It’s not like you’ll see him _every_ day.” 

“You’re still teasing me, aren’t you?” He asked. 

“Yup.” Wooyoung smirked, and then raised a brow. His eyes had momentarily landed on Yunho’s phone, which he’d been using to check the time. He must’ve realized how late it was getting. They needed to head home soon. “By the way, Yunho . . .” 

He looked up as he downed the last of his bottle of Soju. This really had to be his last bottle. He’d been practicing all day with . . . Mingi. He had to have his energy to return to his teaching duties tomorrow. They _all_ did. 

“What?” He asked. 

Wooyoung took his phone and held it up in the air, flashing it at him with his brow still raised in question. “Why’d you change it?” 

“Change . . . what?” He was thoroughly confused as to what his friend was trying to say. It looked like a normal phone. The one he always had. 

“You can’t fool me.” Wooyoung said, placing it back down onto the table. He slid the device towards him, pressing the home button to illuminate the screen. 

Yunho sighed, “I don’t understand what—” 

“Your wallpaper,” His friend told him, still with that questioning look on his face. “It doesn’t have that _Ateez_ guy anymore—” 

This time, Yunho rose from his seat and clamped a hand over Wooyoung’s mouth. The guy really had a loud voice sometimes. “Be quiet~!” Yunho silenced him. He let go after a moment, when he believed Wooyung would lower his voice. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t. 

“So this guy you met is cool enough for you to change your wallpaper?” Wooyoung pointed out, impressed. “Then maybe you should reconsider that dinner invitation.” 

He fell silent. He couldn’t just straight up tell him that the guy they were currently talking about was actually the _same_ guy that used to be his wallpaper. 

Truthfully, he had no idea what to say or even think. Back there, during dance practice, he’d changed the wallpaper immediately once Mingi had been distracted enough for Yunho to do it. Thankfully, his new acquaintance hadn’t noticed it at all. If he had, then Yunho would’ve ran away immediately. Mingi did not need to know that he’d been Yunho’s wallpaper for over a year. Now, his phone image was a random picture he’d taken outside of his apartment. Cherry Blossom trees. 

Wooyoung studied him as Yunho thought over everything that had occurred. “Or not?” 

Yunho shook his head. “No. No, you’re right.” He leaned on the table, eyeing his empty bottle, “I wouldn’t mind going out with him but . . .” 

“But . . .?” Wooyoung asked. 

But it was impossible. He didn’t want to be in a relationship in the first place. He’d said it multiple times, and nothing was going to change that. Being friends was great. And being friends with someone he idolized was even greater. That was all he wanted, in reality. Everything else must’ve been due to his excitement at meeting one of his idols. It was a mere side-effect of shock. 

“But I barely just met him.” Yunho concluded, “And we’re friends. _Just friends_.” 

“Yeah.” Wooyoung cut into his thoughts. His tone indicated that he understood. His friend wasn’t able to read him easily, but that far-off look in his eyes had made Yunho a bit concerned. 

They hadn’t seen each other in a day, since Yunho had practiced all day yesterday and today with Mingi. He wondered what had Wooyoung so distracted. 

He could easily guess, though. There weren’t as many dark circles beneath his eyes as he had before. Instead, he looked at peace. Tomorrow, Yunho would finally get to meet that rich son Wooyoung had been complaining about nonstop. It was going to be fun. 

After a couple of minutes in comfortable, sleepy silence, Yunho broke the air by placing a few bills onto the table. Wooyoung gazed up at him as he did so. 

“I guess we’ll be meeting our new friends tomorrow in class.” Yunho said. “Maybe then you’ll better understand what situation I’m in.” 

Wooyoung stiffened at the mere mention of meeting these interesting new people. That rich son, and of course Mingi but—Wooyoung didn’t know it _was_ Mingi. 

“You’ll be meeting . . . _him_ . . . too.” Wooyoung muttered under his breath, Yunho barely caught onto it. “Great . . .” 

He grinned, “How bad can tomorrow be?” 

They both looked at each other then, unaware of what to say. 

Meeting the new teachers, the people who were going to donate a hefty amount of money to the school, it was all pretty hard to grasp. One of the teachers was even a world famous idol . . . 

It must’ve been his insatiable instincts but—he couldn’t wait until they could finally begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *oh my goodness this is such a tiny chapter T_T  
> *i'm sorry but updates will be agonizingly slow becuz i just started a new job & it's taking a toll on me :"(  
> *i will update as much as I can though!!! :( I'm determined to complete this story!!! 
> 
>    
> *comments r dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls lmk if there r any mistakes <3


	10. Chapter 10

The morning light was cruel when he awoke. 

The only thing that prevented him from fully rising was the fact that he felt too comfortable to even move. He’d slept soundly the night before, and just thinking about how he had to go to school made the entire waking-up process a lot more difficult to tolerate. 

Sure he was a professional idol, therefore sleep didn’t really exist for him anymore, but he was still human. And so as he rubbed at his eyes, he sighed into his palm, waiting for his limbs to wake up as well. 

Surprisingly, he hadn’t felt anything at all last night. And when he said he hadn’t ‘felt’ anything, he meant that he had not noticed Wooyoung clinging to him in bed. Those past two (maybe three at that point?) nights, they’d been sharing the bed (stubbornly), and San had awoken to either embracing the man, or the man hugging him tightly back. 

It was strange, they were strangers after all, but it was also amusing. They didn’t know each other, though somehow the situation had made them become a lot closer in such a short amount of time. The awkwardness had faded somewhat, but Wooyoung was still adamant about his hate. 

San wished to get along with the person his parents had grown to love. Honestly, he envied what Wooyoung had achieved while San was away. He only craved to have that family environment again. He’d had it with his members and staff back at KQ, and his astrological Cancer-self was wanting it now since he was back home too. 

Basically, he hoped this would work out. 

Groggily, he ran his hands over his face, regarding the way Wooyoung was turned on his side, facing away from San, but still very much close. His hips were literally digging into San’s, and it was becoming uncomfortable. 

Still, San desired to simply watch him. Ever since they’d shared that dance yesterday, he couldn’t stop staring at him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t exactly admired someone’s natural appearance in such a long time—or maybe he was just overwhelmed by what he hadn’t noticed at first. Wooyoung was handsome. 

But why was he thinking about that? 

Suddenly, the man turned to San, mumbling something in his sleep as he grasped at San’s pajama shirt weakly, too tired to realize just what he was doing. 

It reminded him of a cat snuggling up against a human. Though he had to remember that this _wasn’t_ a cat. This was Wooyoung. The guy who would be teaching with San later in the day. 

Without much regard to what he was doing, San reached out a finger to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen atop one of Wooyoung’s eyes. The man didn’t stir, and thus San kept his hand there, until he found that maybe this was wrong. 

He just wanted to be friends. He wasn’t looking for anything else. It already shocked him to find out that he’d been thinking about such thoughts casually. Mentally, he slapped himself for letting his mind wander. 

If Mingi was aware of what San was going through, what would he have said? His member had been disappearing to the school dance room nearly every hour, without so much as a text or a warning that he’d be leaving. 

Just what was he doing? And what was San doing? They both had to focus on work so that they could return to Seoul for the comeback. Because in all actuality, this was the one song they needed to release this year, for the sake of the group. After that . . . well, he knew his members were going to take a long break, and even focus on sub-units or even solo work. San’s life was going to change completely again, and he didn’t know how he felt about that. 

Closing his eyes, he removed himself from the bed, rising to sit at the edge of the mattress to slip his shoes on. Behind, Wooyoung stayed laying there, grasping onto the sheets instead with a pout on his sleeping face. He most likely recognized that the source of warmth had left, and now he was empty-handed. 

San wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and resolve the conflict between them, but he also knew that with Wooyoung, it was going to take some time to do that. 

And that was fine. San could wait. 

He only wondered if Wooyoung held enough patience as well.

# ________

The sky was clearer than it had been all week. Summer was beginning to reveal itself, and even the breeze was becoming warmer as the day progressed. It was only early morning, but the sun was already casting a harsh glow upon everything in the town. The weekend feeling was completely obliterated, and thus he felt like the last few weeks of school were really beginning. 

The school was pretty big, with classrooms on nearly every level of the building, a schoolyard, pool, dance rooms, and even a small studio where the vocal teachers sometimes taught their lessons. A majority of the time, the students in the town learned and graduated from this school with experience in singing and dance, but since the community had been struggling to keep the program going, it was a lot harder to make those dreams come true. 

That’s where Wooyoung and eventually Yunho came in. He knew of other people in different towns volunteering just like them, but he had to admit that this was one of his worst cases. It was a miracle that San had shown up to save everyone, as well as that friend of his, who, Wooyoung hadn’t even met. 

Yunho surely had, and he’d been making nothing but a fuss this entire time with how he refused to date him. Wooyoung was curious to finally meet the stranger, but he was also more than ready to introduce the problem that was San. 

Unfortunately, the man had left early in the morning before Wooyoung to talk to the principal of the school. He assumed that maybe they hadn’t finished with his preparations, and so Wooyoung didn’t pay much attention to the absence in the bed when he woke up. 

Hopefully, they hadn’t been attached like koalas the night before

He grimaced at the thought. He didn’t want to become friends so easily with the man. And it wasn’t just ‘hate’ driving him to feel that way. In fact, it was partly his stubbornness. 

Wooyoung was incredibly stubborn, and for some odd reason he just felt so strange around San. He couldn’t explain it, but if he tried hard enough he’d say that his heart always dropped to his stomach when he was around him. He just had to trust his gut and stay away from him as long as he could, just until they were both separated and back in Seoul, where, they would never see each other again. 

Maybe it was jealousy too? But Wooyoung didn’t like to think about it. He didn’t like the idea of being jealous over someone who had money, especially since he’d come across those types in his time volunteering at schools. 

He couldn’t base his judgments on the man so easily though. That would’ve been heartless of him, and totally not what he was used to. He simply hated the effect San had on him. It was infuriating and confusing and he didn’t know why he had to feel this way. 

Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair over and over again, thinking a mile a minute. He’d wanted to meet up with Yunho on the way to school, but found that the man was still standing outside of his apartment, texting furiously on his phone until his eyes landed on Wooyoung slowly approaching. 

He appeared fully rested, but at the same time there was a confused look to his face that clearly indicated he was troubled. He was a loud, expressive person like Wooyoung, though this felt like something he’d seen before, when Yunho had thought he’d seen that guy from that group. What were they called again? 

Wooyoung stopped beneath the streetlight where Yunho was currently waiting, impatiently. “Morning.” 

“You’re going to think I’m lying,” Yunho said, relaxing somewhat in his presence. “Again.” 

“You’re a terrible liar, Yunho.” Wooyoung told him. He hitched his backpack up higher on his shoulder, waiting for the other to speak. When he didn’t, they both sat on a nearby bus bench, with Yunho fiddling on his phone, gazing at his screen a little too intently. 

It was 6 in the morning. He was already tired, and what with Yunho looking so wide awake, it didn’t help his early moodiness. Having San as a teacher beside him didn’t calm his nerves either. He was dreading it. 

Yunho leaned against him, defeated, “I thought I saw someone else from _Ateez_ this morning.” He tried to whisper, but failed. 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at him, presenting just how _done_ he was with that group. Whenever he came across the name in headlines and whatnot, he always scrolled by, ignoring it altogether. He admired the love Yunho had for them, but Wooyoung needed time to understand that admiration. 

“I don’t even want to know.” Wooyoung said truthfully, yawning. 

Surprisingly, his friend exhaled and sat forward, nodding, “Yeah. Yeah I don’t think it’s best if I tell you.” 

Wooyoung didn’t mean for it to sound harsh, but it came out like that. Yunho though, appeared as if he didn’t comprehend what Wooyoung was fully saying, thankfully. He was glad the subject could be brushed off so easily. 

But still, if his friend kept on seeing _Ateez_ in rural places, then wasn’t he most likely just witnessing mirages? They’d been in that town for a long time, so of course they were both looking for something exciting. Maybe the country air was getting to them? 

Wooyoung clamped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Hey, _Ateez_ or not, we’ve gotta get to class.” 

“You’re right.” Yunho said, still dazedly staring at his phone. There was a picture of a man displayed there, but the screen was too dark for Wooyoung to see. He wondered which member it was that Yunho ‘might’ve’ seen. But then again, he knew he didn’t want to. 

It was best not to dwell on problems that weren’t his own. If the guy that Yunho saw was that same guy who was in the midst of all those scandals, then Wooyoung needed to keep himself far from it. Besides, no member of _Ateez_ was actually there. That would’ve been impossible. 

He had to look on the bright side too. Being stuck with San was much better than being stuck with an idol who had a bad scandal, right? 

At least he didn’t have to deal with _that_.

# ________

Yunho had seen Choi San. 

It was definitely him, just like it was definitely Mingi that other time. Yunho couldn’t deny that this morning, as he was exiting his apartment, he saw the idol walking idly in the park directly in front of his home, looking at the cherry blossom trees. 

But if it wasn’t Choi San, then maybe the country air _was_ getting to him. He might’ve even been just excited over how he met Mingi. That was possibly why he probably day-dreamed that he saw the idol strolling in the park. 

Because Mingi hadn’t mentioned anyone else coming to the school, correct? He hadn’t said anything whilst they were practicing, and Yunho sure as hell didn’t have the nerve to ask about any other member of the group. That would’ve been rude. 

So . . . if it was another member of _Ateez_ , then did that mean the man Wooyoung was complaining about was . . . 

He shook his head at the idea. Wooyoung already didn’t like the donor, but if the person ended up being Choi San, then—all of them were doomed. 

But he couldn’t jump to conclusions! 

For the moment, he would just accept that he was hallucinating, and that no one else from that group but Mingi was in town. That was all he could do to keep himself relaxed, since it was especially difficult to be at peace when his idol was mere inches away, blowing on his hot coffee, swiveling in his teacher’s chair, and waiting for class to begin. 

Yunho hadn’t had the time to actually process the fact that Mingi was literally his dance partner. Never in a million years had he thought it would ever occur. 

And the man was a great dancer. Yunho could easily see the amount of training and skill he’d acquired over years and years of practice. The dedication he exhibited in his work was everything that Yunho had dreamt of when he imagined meeting Mingi. 

Honestly, he’d met a lot of dancers, but this was the first time someone had truly . . . inspired him? Could he say that? 

Mingi looked up at him with a smile. Not a hint of tiredness was on his face, despite Yunho knowing the man must’ve stayed up the entire night practicing. He also felt guilty that he kind of gave the idol the could shoulder when he was obviously about to ask Yunho out to dinner. 

The only way to resolve this awkward air between them was if _Yunho_ gathered the courage to suggest an outing. Because in the end, he really did want to be friends with his idol, even though he knew it was best not to meet him. 

Yunho tried to return the bright smile, but it turned out forced in the end. He’d always seen Mingi through screens or billboards or photos—but the man was seriously too beautiful in person, Yunho could hardly handle it. 

“My good friend San is teaching here too.” Mingi said so nonchalantly, Yunho began to choke on his own coffee. 

Well, that answered all of his questions. That, or maybe Mingi was referring to a different ‘San’. Yunho certainly hoped it wasn’t Choi San, mostly because he knew what Wooyoung’s reaction would be, knowing that the man he’d been sleeping with all along was—

“O-oh . . .” Yunho said, after clearing his throat free from the caffeinated beverage. 

Mingi tilted his head, shooting him a questioning look. It was . . . _cute_. “Is your friend coming by too—?” 

“Wooyoung?” Yunho hadn’t intended to cut him off, but he was still surprised over the whole thing. He couldn’t continue acting normal, not when he knew too much. Wooyoung was probably gonna throw a tantrum later if Yunho didn’t tell him what was going on. Which meant that he had to tell his friend everything before he could figure it out himself. 

Yunho was already having a hard time taking it all in. He could only picture what Wooyoung would do when the news registered. It was not going to be pretty. 

“Is that his name?” Mingi asked. He placed his coffee on the desk behind him, staring at the closed door. They were early. Class wouldn’t begin for another half an hour. 

He merely sent a curt nod of his head when Mingi turned to him. Yunho had to get out of there to inform Wooyoung that the man donating money to the school was actually the idol he’d grown to despise. He had to do that, though what if the ‘San’ Mingi was talking about was someone else? 

Yunho had to stop and breathe and think. He was an impatient person, but maybe sitting this one out and waiting until this ‘San’ arrived was a better idea than just storming away and telling Wooyoung. 

Yeah, this was probably all just a misunderstanding. 

This was all most likely someone else Mingi knew. Someone who coincidentally shared the same name, and knew Mingi, and was a dancer—

In that moment, the door swung open, revealing a man not as tall as Mingi or Yunho, but definitely taller than Wooyoung. His deep black hair and striking red highlights was the first thing Yunho saw, before he realized that the individual was someone he’d seen before. 

“I got all the paperwork done with the principal. We just need your signature and we’re good to go.” The man said to Mingi casually, unaware that Yunho was there as well. 

Mingi tugged at Yunho’s shirt, jutting a thumb to the newcomer, “Yunho, this is San. San, this is Yunho.” 

The man named San then met eyes with him and smiled, bright, as friendly as he always appeared in photos. “Nice to meet you.” 

Yunho froze completely. The ‘San’ Mingi had spoken about was indeed Choi San of _Ateez_. This was too much to process and yet—he still responded with a small voice that nearly cracked in shock, “N-nice to meet you.” 

_Oh fuck . . ._

Wooyoung was going to be _pissed_.

# ________

Wooyoung was pissed. 

First of all, class was going to begin, but Yunho and San were nowhere to be found. Second, the idea that San was gonna be his assistant teacher was daunting. The principal barely informed him of the plan once he arrived, without warning. 

Yunho was stuck with having an assistant teacher too, but Wooyoung would’ve preferred it if Yunho was with San and not him. But then again, he was only throwing a tantrum over the entire situation. He just needed to make sure that nothing else would disrupt his already bad mood. 

He knew what the day was going to be like, though he hadn’t expected to feel so anxious. He’d dealt with donors before, but none of them had ever willingly agreed to help out with teaching. 

This was territory he’d never been on. Of course he was nervous. Plus, he was looking out for the kids as well. He hoped San ended up being a good teacher. If not, then things were gonna be more troublesome in the future. 

He still felt as if he was being prejudice against the man though. In the days leading up to the new school week, Wooyoung had seen just how easy-going and kind San was once he got to know him. The money, and Wooyoung’s history with volunteering was the main thing clouding his judgment. San was just in the way of it all, and he’d shown up in a really bad time. 

If Wooyoung had met San elsewhere, then maybe they would’ve been good friends. But no, this was their fated universe and now he was tasked with getting along with him. It was going to be hard, though at least the gossip surrounding him hadn’t been bad. Not as bad as that one idol— 

His phone chimed in his back pocket. It was probably Yunho texting him that he was going to be late. He hadn’t thought of giving San his phone number. That was something he probably had to do once the man showed up. 

There was a fair amount of time until class begun, and so they would have a chance for proper introductions. Wooyoung had to meet Yunho’s new assistant teacher too. Basically, there was a lot that had to be done before work began. 

And just when he came to that conclusion, the door opened, to his right. Wooyoung had been leaning on the mirrored wall in the dance room, waiting. When he saw that San had shown up, he did a small wave. 

“Morning.” 

“Morning.” San stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave Wooyoung a gentle smile. 

Ah, there it was. That feeling in his gut that felt like butterflies. He had no idea what it was, but it was an annoying sensation. And he found it more annoying that San was the cause of it all. 

To distract himself from the man’s gaze, he whipped out his phone from his back pocket and slid it open, unlocking it to reveal the text Yunho had sent him only a second ago. The message was a keyboard smash of words, and he could hardly understand what they meant. He wanted to text back, but figured it wasn’t worth it. 

“It’s just as I remembered it.” San gazed up at the interior of the place, taking it all in. “I used to dance here, when I was barely a teenager.” 

Wooyoung looked around. He tried to envision a young San, dancing in that same room, just barely learning the craft. From what he’d seen during their waltz, San was pretty damn good. He held himself like a dancer, and it was evident that he’d been doing it for a while. 

San’s parents never mentioned him being a professional. Actually, they never did talk about what San did for a living out in Seoul. The man was a total mystery still, even though Wooyoung had been sleeping right beside him for days. 

“You know the principal, then?” Wooyoung asked. 

San nodded, grinning to himself. He must have been recalling past memories. Wooyoung could relate. He’d attended an arts academy, and from graduation he focused his studies on dance. He wondered if maybe San had done the same thing, or if dance was simply something he did on the side. 

It was good, seeing how much they were talking. Their conversations tended to fade in and out, like they were playing a game of tag. Neither revealed too much, which was most likely why they were still butting heads. 

San always tried to be the friendliest he could be whenever he was around Wooyoung, but at times their foundations seemed to crack with every little argument that surfaced between them. It was hard for them to get along. 

“Did you meet the other teachers as well?” Wooyoung leaned farther back against the mirror, drowning out the sleepiness he still felt from waking up so early. He had to dismiss the negative thoughts in his head, so that he could talk to the guy without starting a fight, which, was usually how they spoke to one another. 

“I met your friend,” San said. “Yunho.” 

“Oh, the tall one.” Wooyoung raised his hand above his head to show just how tall his friend was. 

“Yeah, the tall one.” He laughed softly, walking around Wooyoung to stare at the opened windows. The view of the town was incredible. It may have been the best place to see the entirety of the village. 

The sight of it all reminded him that San grew up there. Wooyoung forgot most of the time, but was made aware of it whenever he remembered the look of wistfulness on San’s face when they’d walked around town that day. 

Wooyoung really knew nothing about him. And the dancing they did yesterday hadn’t helped. When he’d tried to find out anything regarding the man’s life, all he recieved were vague answers. He understood what it was like keeping things secret but—now it felt like San didn’t want Wooyoung to know anything. That revelation slightly hurt him. 

Another chime from his phone awoke him from his thoughts. He’d forgotten that Yunho still had to show up. So where was he? And where were the students anyway? They always arrived rather late, though this was unusual. Had something distracted them on the way to class? 

Angry, he unlocked his phone once more and eyed the new message. This time, a single photo was presented instead of words. It must’ve been the same photo Yunho had been looking at earlier—

Wait. 

Wooyoung tapped the picture, zooming in on the individual. It was someone he’d seen recently. That face—it was severe, with eyes that were drawn in black and red to represent just how striking they could be. It was a picture of an idol. That was obvious. What was confusing was the fact that the face in the image was . . . 

San turned to look at him. The sun behind him cast a glare, making it harder for Wooyoung to see, but he immediately recognized what was going on, even though he didn’t want to believe it. 

“ _No_ . . .” He said, dropping his phone accidentally. It fell to the floor, sliding across to the man who was watching him confusedly. Concern marked the features that looked so different from the picture on the phone, which was disorienting because it was like he was staring at two different people. 

When San saw just what Wooyoung was looking at, his eyes widened in surprise. It was then that another text chimed, this time with an answer to his questions. Though only two words remained prominent throughout it all—

_Choi San_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *OMG it's been so long~! I'm really sorry for not updating :( So much has happened since I've been away from ao3 and it's still pretty hectic :/ Is anyone still reading this fic??? I think I may have forgotten a few things from the story lol?? I have to reread it :]  
> *also has anyone read 'the song of achilles'? i'm reading it rn :3 
> 
>  
> 
> *comments r dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls lmk if there r any mistakes <3


	11. Chapter 11

The place was hot. And it didn’t help that it was the beginning of summer as well. The school was already humid most of the time, without the help of proper air conditioning. Last year, the students and teachers barely survived the sweltering classrooms, even with the windows open. 

So it was no surprise that the supply closet he was currently being squished in was also extremely hot. It was only the morning, but the heat entrapped in the small space had left him sweating, and it’d only been a few minutes since they’d decided to hide. 

Currently, a mob of students were searching for them. Thus, a good hiding spot was like a blessing. It was partly Mingi’s fault for being so damn famous, but it was also Yunho’s for not telling the kids early on that their new teachers were actually members of _Ateez_. 

He hung his head low, avoiding the bead of sweat travelling down his temple. Maybe it was a bad idea to assume that the morning was going to be cold. At the moment, he was wearing a thick jacket, and he wanted nothing more than to take it off. 

It was difficult to do so, since another equally tall individual was inside the closet with him, trying to adjust their positions so that they weren’t practically on top of one another. Ultimately, that failed, and Yunho could do nothing but keep his composure as Mingi stuck close to his side, peeking through the crack in the door, waiting to see if the excitement of the students had died. Hopefully, it would. 

Yunho had never thought he would be in this situation. Actually, he wasn’t claustrophobic but—he was starting to feel anxious all over again. Did the universe just _want_ to pair him up with the one person he was adamant not to fall for? 

He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, eyes flickering down to Mingi. Mingi, all the while, had been sitting on a low shelf whilst Yunho towered over. Yunho quite literally was pinning the idol to the wall, and he had no idea what he was going to do about it. 

Mingi looked up at him then. Yunho flinched backwards, but there wasn’t any room to actually do that, so he managed to hit the back of his head against another metal shelf above them. His face had been too close to his. He could still smell the scent of peppermint toothpaste on his lips. 

“Ouch . . .” Yunho rubbed at his head, wincing. 

Mingi closed the door, so as not to give away their hiding spot, “I’m sorry.” He got up, facing him too closely _again_. 

“N-no, I’m fine.” He assured him, but failed as Mingi brought his own hand to Yunho’s head, checking to see if he was indeed okay. The idol rested his arm on Yunho’s shoulder so casually, they could’ve hugged in that cramped space. Not that Yunho was thinking about doing that. No way. 

It was nerve-wracking. They were too close. Yunho wanted to leave, immediately. Being this close to his idol was overwhelming. He just wanted to melt into the ground. 

“You’re not bleeding?” Mingi asked him concernedly. 

Yunho shook his head frantically, “No.” 

God this was embarrassing. He hoped his thoughts weren’t present on his face. At one point, he tried to think about anything else. Wooyoung, for example, was still an issue. 

He’d sent those texts long ago, but his phone hadn’t chimed with a reply once. He knew Choi San was most likely in Wooyoung’s class, but Yunho didn’t know if the information was well-received. He knew the reaction was not going to be great. 

Because Wooyoung didn’t like Choi San, and he didn’t exactly know how San had come to sleep in the same bed as Wooyoung for literal days. How had they not killed one another yet? 

Well, he just hoped that Wooyoung had gotten the message. Still, he knew a tantrum was imminent immediately after. It was already giving him a headache. 

“I’m sorry,” Mingi said suddenly after a while, again. “I should’ve called ahead that we were coming.” 

“No, no.” Yunho assured him. “They’re just a little excited over the news.” 

Mingi looked unconvinced. Yunho couldn’t blame him. Mingi of all people knew what it was like handling excited people. It sounded tiring, being an idol, constantly overwhelmed by thousands and thousands of fans who adored you, as well as individuals who took things a little too far. Yunho wouldn’t have tolerated it. 

It appeared as if Mingi had thought of all of this as they hid. Yunho could clearly see it written on his face. They were so close, no lies or secrets could come between them at that moment. 

_Change the topic!_ He thought, desperately placing distance between them. It was impossible. 

“Do you . . .” He began, eyes falling from the light bulb above them and into the eyes of the one below him, “Do you have anything planned after this . . . ?” 

Mingi’s expression brightened. It surprised him slightly. “No.” 

“Ah . . .” Yunho searched for his words. He recalled the time they were in the dance room, when Yunho had blatantly given Mingi the cold shoulder. He still felt guilty over that. 

What would Mingi think if Yunho was the one to ask him out to dinner? Honestly, he expected the idol to refuse him. That was partly why he hadn’t played with the idea ever since. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities. Going out as friends was common, correct? They were just friends. Nothing else. 

So there was no harm in having dinner. Right? 

Yunho gazed at Mingi, thinking. He felt a bit selfish, considering he was friends with such a well-known person. But in the end he remembered Mingi was the one to actually consider him that. If it wasn’t for Mingi’s friendly personality, Yunho would’ve stayed a mere casual acquaintance. ‘Friend’ felt like too much of a burden when it came to beings friends with an idol. 

He exhaled. He was overthinking things. It was better to just blurt out what he wanted to say in the beginning. And so that was what he did. 

Yunho sighed, “Would you . . . like to have dinner with—” 

“Yes.” Mingi cut him off. 

He blinked, shocked at his quick response. He hadn’t expected that. “Oh.” 

For once in their entire time together, Mingi appeared nervous. Happy, but nervous. “Yeah . . .” 

Yunho searched the room, avoiding eye contact. If Mingi was nervous, then Yunho couldn’t help but feel the same. “Yeah . . .” 

They stood there, in close proximity, faces flushed from what was probably the heat, but probably not. Then, Mingi began to laugh, breaking the tension, and Yunho couldn’t help but slip a small smile, because in reality they’d grown quite close in such a short amount of time. There was no point in being awkward anymore. 

He was just glad and relieved that he’d finally said it.

# ________

San didn’t know what to do. 

He’d dealt with angry people before, even mobs—but this was the first time he’d ever felt scared over something he’d caused. It was evident that Wooyoung was upset over the fact that San hadn’t told him anything about being an idol. San sure as hell would’ve felt the same way. Because the man had a right to know. He should’ve known, but San had been selfish. 

Yes, he’d been very selfish. Those past few days had been amazing, living life blissfully with someone who was unaware of his celebrity status and terrible rumors. San had thought, for a minute, that maybe he would live in that bubble of freedom for a little while longer, but in the end it seemed it had crashed down all around him. 

Now, his home life and his work life had come together, and it was even more difficult to manage than he had expected. Though throughout all of this, it was Wooyoung who had been affected by it the most. San felt incredibly bad about that. 

Nervously, he strode down the hallways of the familiar school, ignoring the occasional murmur of students as he passed classroom after classroom, window after window, following Wooyoung even though he didn’t want to be found. 

He came at a standstill though, when Wooyoung made a sharp turn into the courtyard, empty besides the swaying cherry blossom trees above, raining down pink petals in cooling air that was a stark difference to the heat from within the school. 

It was a beautiful day, hot, but still beautiful. The sun shone down on them, peeking through the branches of the trees in the breeze, casting shadows on the teacher’s face as he stood in the middle of the courtyard, running his hands through his hair in what San noticed was a habit. 

Wooyoung’s jaw was clenched, as if preventing himself from becoming too angry. San wanted nothing more than to apologize. He’d partly deceived the man into believing San was an honest person. Now it looked like the rumors in the news were true, even though San knew they were not. It was going to be a lot harder to prove to Wooyoung that he was indeed a good guy. 

San waited for him to speak. It didn’t feel right to say anything first. Wooyoung already looked pissed off. That familiar pout said it all. 

“When were you going to tell me?” He murmured. It was so quiet, San had barely caught it. 

There was hurt in his tone. It made San wince. He’d caused that. It made him feel uneasy knowing that he could’ve prevented it by outright revealing his identity from the beginning. But then again, this _was_ his hometown. He also had the right to keep silent about it all. 

But Wooyoung was clearly troubled. San couldn’t deny that. “And just when we were getting along,” He said. _This had to happen._

Wooyoung threw his head back, sighing at the sky. “I’ve been sleeping with a supposed cheater.” 

At the mere mention of the scandal, San walked up to him, determined to correct the false rumor, “Wooyoung, I am _not_ a cheater.” 

“Those rumors . . .” He reminded him. His eyes revealed they didn’t believe in San’s words. “There are so many rumors, San. How can I believe you?” 

It was true. How could Wooyoung believe him? San had seen how Wooyoung hadn’t recognized him before. So the man most likely didn’t know who he was at all. San was a complete stranger to him. It was different with fans who were aware and had little knowledge of him, but with Wooyoung it was more complicated. San had to prove himself even more. 

It reminded him of what his mother had mentioned previously, when San had told her he believed Wooyoung ‘hated’ him. _He doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t know you._ She’d said. She was right. 

San exhaled. He felt heavy, almost like he’d just finished a worldwide tour. He was tired of never having the opportunity to prove himself. 

Well, now it seemed like the perfect chance to do so. If he could convince Wooyoung that he was innocent, then that was good enough for him. Wooyoung _was_ his biggest critic, San had realized that immediately, and so it was worth it to try. 

Wooyoung eyed him skeptically, waiting. San only stared back, hands open as if to tell him that he had nothing to hide. 

“Can I prove it to you?” San asked. 

“Prove what?” Wooyoung crossed his arms. 

“I’ll prove to you that I’m not a cheater.” He promised. He took another step forward, looking down at Wooyoung closely, “You just don’t know me, Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung scoffed. Ah, there it was again. They were arguing for the umpteenth time. San really wanted to go back to this morning, when everything was quiet, peaceful, with Wooyoung asleep on the other side of his bed, unaware of how his actions betrayed him as he slept. 

“And if you don’t manage to prove your innocence, then what?” Wooyoung questioned, brow raised. “What do I get if you lose?” 

“Then I’ll go back to Seoul and we’ll never see each other again.” San said. Those words tasted bitter in his mouth, but for some reason they were so easy to say. He must’ve been scared to keep them bottled in. Because as he thought about it, never seeing Wooyoung again sounded terrible. Why? 

Wooyoung was taken aback by his words. So much, that he had taken a step back from San as he’d said them. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say, but the effect it had on Wooyoung certainly revealed his hesitance towards it too. 

After a pause, Wooyoung’s brows knitted together. He was hurt. “I guess you have nothing to lose, then.” 

San lost his breath. Wooyoung was wrong. “No—!” 

Now they were both surprised, because apparently San _did_ have something to lose. Their friendship. And even though it had been rocky, he still valued the people he knew. 

Wooyoung must’ve disregarded his protest. “You only have a couple of weeks left to do that.” He reminded him. “You’re only here for the remainder of the semester.” 

San kept silent. He’d forgotten about that. 

Truthfully, that was more than enough to time to prove himself. He was innocent, therefore there was nothing to actually incriminate him. All he had to do was . . . be himself. Wooyoung was a good person. San had faith he would see the truth eventually. 

Behind them, a bell rang, indicating to them that school was beginning. They’d completely forgotten about their duties as teachers. San, again, was at fault for their tardiness. 

Wooyoung ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated, until San grabbed his arm. The teacher looked bewildered, but his expression grew calm as San let go slightly. He hadn’t known what drove him to reach out to Wooyoung. It must’ve been a gut feeling to not let the other walk away before he could reply. 

Wooyoung stared at him. His eyes no longer had the vibrancy they usually held, instead they were dark, cautious, “What?” 

“I haven’t introduced myself properly.” San slipped his hand into Wooyoung’s, holding it firmly so that the other would not let go. 

“You don’t have to—” He said. 

San pulled at his arm, tugging him close, “I do." 

Wooyoung appeared conflicted, but he nodded silently. 

“My name is Choi San.” He introduced. Their palms were growing hot, sweaty as they held hands. “I’m from the idol group _Ateez_.” San hoped the sincerity in his eyes was there. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung, as he looked on at San, remained quiet. They were close and yet, San couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Half the time he didn’t need to know, because it was obvious how Wooyoung felt from the beginning. They were always at odds. 

He let go of Wooyoung’s hand and was amazed to find Wooyoung still holding onto it tightly, until he noticed this too and let go immediately. 

They stepped away from each other, noticing the tension between them. 

Wooyoung turned to him once, opened his mouth to speak, then stopped himself. San wanted nothing more than to hear him speak, but he did not. San wanted nothing more than to see the light in Wooyoung again—

But he did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wElp.  
> * tiny chapter im sorry :(( i tried to make the angst as short as possible becuz i need fluff again asap.  
>  
> 
> *comments r dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls lmk if there r any mistakes <3


	12. Chapter 12

The thing about it was—he wasn’t even _that_ mad about the whole situation. Instead, he felt the opposite. Because sure he’d been betrayed by Choi San, but at the same time everyone had secrets anyway. Who was he to judge? 

No, what he was mad about was the fact that his heart had suddenly dropped to his stomach when Choi San had said that they would most likely never see each other again. That, above all else, was what had Wooyoung feeling terrified. 

Because he didn’t really hate San. Not after coming to know him in the days since the argument, and of course in the days spent before that too. He didn’t hate him, in fact, he was beginning to recognize that maybe he never did. 

Yunho walked into the living room casually, dropping to sit on the floor so that Wooyoung could take the entirety of the couch to himself. They were in Yunho’s apartment, small but cozy, and much cleaner than Wooyoung’s bedroom. 

It was obvious he wanted to avoid San. In between teaching days and breaks, he’d managed to run away from the man whenever he could. It was cowardly, but how could Wooyoung face him when he was currently feeling like—

“Your face is red.” Yunho pointed out. 

Wooyoung touched his cheek. It was hot. “It’s nothing.” 

“Are you warming up to him?” 

“Who?” 

“Who do you think?” 

“No.” Wooyoung glared at him. 

Yunho merely raised a brow, “Are you sure?” 

“No.” He admitted, sitting back. This was true. He’d never thought of it, much less said it aloud. But once it was out, he finally understood that maybe what he was feeling as hatred, was actually the opposite. 

But San had yet to actually prove his innocence. Choi San was an idol, an idol with a scandal. Still, Wooyoung remained red-faced as he remembered the heartfelt declaration of the man in the courtyard on Monday. That was seven days ago. Seven days spent without letting the idol actually prove himself. Wooyoung was starting to feel guilty. 

Yunho sensed this. The taller placed a hand on the arm of the couch, eyeing him wearily. Unlike he and San, Yunho and that other member of _Ateez_ were getting along well. A little _too_ well. Wooyoung half-wondered if they had taken things a step further than simply being ‘friends’. 

In their introductions, Wooyoung had found the man named Mingi to be very friendly and outgoing, just like he’d seen with San and other people. All in all, they had proved themselves to be good company. So unlike the stuffy, uppity version he’d pictured most popular idols to be like. It was then that he realized just how judgemental he’d become. This wasn’t like him at all. But then again, his head had been distracting him with _unnecessary_ thoughts, or in this case, unnecessary feelings. 

Not to mention the fact that both men were showing to be great teachers. The kids liked them very much as well, which was always a good indication to Wooyoung that they were indeed nice people. He found, over the years of teaching, that kids were the best judges of character. He couldn’t not trust their judgement. 

But this was still impossible. Because Choi San was an idol. Wooyoung couldn’t be friends with him. Though Yunho had shown it was possible, with Mingi. Maybe if Wooyoung wasn’t so scared, then— 

“You haven’t spoken to him in days.” Yunho interrupted his thoughts. 

Wooyoung stumbled on his words, “That’s not true—” 

“Okay, you barely speak to each other.” He corrected himself. He was currently giving Wooyoung a stern gaze, one that clearly expressed the irritation an Aries has over the antics of their Sagittarius. “What else did he tell you?” 

That was difficult to answer. Wooyoung had told Yunho everything that’d occurred in the courtyard. But then again, half the school had heard them that day, so it was no surprise to anyone that Wooyoung and San were butting heads. 

He sighed deeply, sitting back whilst he embraced the pillow in his arms, “He said—he . . .” 

Choi San had told him that if he couldn’t prove his innocence to Wooyoung, then they would never see each other again. It made his heart sink when he remembered the look on San’s face when he said it. It made Wooyoung feel . . . terrible. He hated how he caused such a reaction. 

Yunho patted his leg reassuringly, “You’ve got only weeks left with him as your assistant. Soon, he’ll be gone.” 

“Weeks . . .” Wooyoung repeated him. 

They only had a mere few weeks to resolve their tension. In reality, if they had met on different circumstances, they might have become friends. A voice in his head was adamantly telling him that he was missing something else, but what? 

He thought back to what San had said on Monday. He told Wooyoung that they didn’t really know each other. It was an honest statement, and one he couldn’t deny. For the sake of his students and career, he would have to buckle down and get along with his new assistant teacher, no matter what. 

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’ve been sleeping with Choi San of _Ateez_.” Yunho said, laughing.

Wooyoung shot him a small glare. It was already embarrassing thinking about his situation. They still hadn’t resolved who rightfully owned the bed, and so they remained sharing it. “Why do you have to say it like that?” 

“What?” His friend shrugged, “It’s not like you’re in love with him or anything.” 

At that, he felt the tips of his ears begin to burn. He had no reason to feel flustered over what Yunho had implied. If anything, he should’ve brushed it off just as easily. But other than ‘hate’, another thing had been bothering him. 

If it was anger he was experiencing with San, then the most likely conclusion that came to mind was that he hated the idol. Though looking at his perspective through a different lens, he’d unveiled something else. 

As if sensing his troubled silence, Yunho narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “You’re not . . . in _love_ with him—right?” 

Wooyoung shook his head at first, but then paused for a good, long minute. Thinking. It was only after some time in silence that he looked at his friend confusedly, dazedly. 

Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling too well. 

“Yunho . . .” He began, dropping his gaze, “I don’t know . . . I don’t even know him.” 

“Do we really know the people we like? Even if you’d grown up with him, you still wouldn’t know him.” Yunho told him casually. “That’s why we get to know each other a little more first. That’s how it starts.” 

Wooyoung prevented himself from trying to figure out what Yunho meant by ‘it’. He didn’t want to know. San had said the same thing, but in different words. So why wasn’t Wooyoung willing to understand? 

“I just can’t stand the thought of San believing I am out there in the world being wrong.” He said. “I jumped to conclusions without knowing him. And I don’t know why—”

That was false. He did know. He’d known all along that the driving force behind his actions was selfish admiration, in their friendship and in their first acquaintance. Wooyoung had permanently stopped himself from _wanting_ him. And now he was certain that maybe it was wrong to do that. 

But what could he do now? After this, they would probably never see each other again. Once that happened, Wooyoung wouldn’t have to deal with San ever. 

It was for the best.

# ________

“You look even worse than when we got here.” Mingi said. 

San threw him a fierce, tired look in his direction. Of course he looked terrible. He _felt_ even worse than what his appearance indicated. It had been a trifling week, and what with Wooyoung not cooperating, it wasn’t hard to see that maybe he was wrong in telling Wooyoung they would depart from each other forever. He felt bad about that. 

“I’m just—” He ran his fingers through his red fringe, “I’m just glad I have something other than the scandal to deal with.” 

Mingi hummed in response, agreeing. 

Unlike San, the tall rapper had had better luck in the ‘friend’ field. For days, he’d seen the man with that other teacher, Yunho, who was by far the best damn dancer San had seen in a while. It was no surprise that Mingi had attached himself to him so quickly. It made him feel slightly envious. 

“I just need a remedy.” San eyed the ceiling of his room. One of his chandelier lights had gone out. It made half his room dark. _Please give me a remedy._

Mingi smirked, “You’ll get one. I guarantee it.” 

“Will I?” He muttered. 

“Well, you like him, don’t you?” Mingi kept that satisfied smile on his face as he said this. It infuriated him.

He bit his lip, pondering and ultimately giving up in the face of his longtime friend, “How’d you know?” 

The rapper scoffed, “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” 

San didn’t answer. Maybe it had been obvious to everyone else, though it seemed like Wooyoung hadn’t been a part of that group. That was for the better, because he didn’t want to drag the man into his problems. They were in quite a messy situation with each other already. 

His gaze fell to the other side of the bed where Wooyoung usually slept. Their sleeping patterns had turned harmonious as the days passed. San would sleep on the left side of the bed, while Wooyoung slept on the right. In the mornings, San intentionally woke up earlier, mostly because of his lifestyle habits of early schedules, but also because he didn’t want to disrupt the clingy Wooyoung as he slept. 

Thinking back, he found that those times were the most relaxing. He could stop his thoughts from returning to the mess in Seoul—the mess he’d caused with Dispatch. 

He shook his head, brushing away such negative images for the millionth time, because at that moment, he craved to see Wooyoung so that they could begin to resolve their conflict. If a remedy was what he wanted, then that was what he was going to create. He just had to be honest. 

# ________

It was getting late by the time he’d left Yunho’s apartment. The night was humid, surprisingly, lately it’d been more cold in the evenings. And the sky was clear, dark, easy to witness the cluster of stars above. 

That was what he missed about staying in such rural towns. Back in Seoul, the city lights were too bright to view the full nightscape, but in places like this, he could easily look up at the sky and see what the stars were made of. 

He stuffed his hands into his jacket as he swerved around a corner, arriving at the entrance of the half-lit taekwondo studio, located right beside the house he was staying in. Yunho’s apartment was close by, as well as the school, so it was a nice walk that allowed him time to run through his thoughts. 

And since the studio was lit, he’d guessed that maybe his landlord was in there practicing. He’d seen the older man in there a few times, and Wooyoung had even borrowed the room to dance. It was a familiar place, and very convenient, with the amount of mirrors it had. It was perfect to practice in. 

He’d expected to simply walk in through the studio, greet the man, and enter through the back entrance of the house, but he found himself stopping at the opened door, somewhat shocked at what he was seeing. 

Wooyoung leaned against the doorway, waiting to see if the younger man would notice him. 

He did not. 

Choi San was at the center of the large room, practicing what looked to be taekwondo moves. His body moved easily, swiftly, just like the times Wooyoung had seen him dance. It was ingrained in him, after years of idol training and experiencing. He felt a little jealous, truthfully. 

Silently, he stayed along the wall, watching as the idol continued to practice. He was wearing a sleeveless black shirt, exposing his toned arms, tan now from the days spent back in his hometown. His sweatpants had been rolled to his knees, while his converse dug into the mats on the floor. He was sweating, hair partially soaked, which meant that he had probably been in there for a long time. 

Wooyoung knew that feeling. Whenever something was bothering him, he either vented to someone or—if that didn’t work, he practiced, practiced until he couldn’t feel anything anymore. 

Once more, a slight twinge of guilt hit him. He’d caused this. They both did. Now it was time to settle their childish indifferences. They were adults, and so they would deal with this like adults. 

Wooyoung strode to the center of the room, determined, “San.” 

Upon closer inspection, he noticed San was wearing airpods, and they were blaring music rather loudly, so it was no surprise that he’d startled the man. 

San turned, knocked him off his feet, and brought him to the floor, caging him in with his arms. It was so fast, Wooyoung had barely had the time to actually defend himself. 

He looked up at San, disoriented. This was stupid. He shouldn’t have crept up on someone who was practicing taekwondo. What was he thinking? 

San gasped as he realized what he had done. He appeared just as surprised as Wooyoung. “Shit—I’m—Wooyoung, I’m sorry . . .” 

Wooyoung took a moment to register what had happened. He was flat on his back, and Choi San of the famous idol group _Ateez_ had just used taekwondo on him. 

He closed his eyes and sighed. 

This wasn’t what he signed up for when he arrived in this town. 

The idol atop him unwrapped himself from his tight hold immediately, but not before Wooyoung brought him back quickly, hands on San’s shoulder so that they could face each other. 

What was he doing? Well, he wanted to resolve this tension they both had. And the opportunity seemed like the best time to do it. He knew that if they left each other now, they would continue to ignore one another for the rest of their stay. In short, they would be going absolutely nowhere. 

Wooyoung took the airpods out of his ear and placed them on the ground, “Wait,” He said, tugging at San’s shirt, “I—I have something to say.” 

San’s expression of confusion was enough to make him feel nervous. He felt confused too. They’d both gotten off on the wrong foot, and now they needed to start afresh. 

He continued, “I want to say that . . . I”m sorry, San . . .” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” The idol began. 

Wooyoung shook his head, “No—I judged you too quickly. That’s disrespectful of me, and so I want to apologize.” 

San studied him. The man obviously didn’t know how intimidating he looked sometimes. Wooyoung almost couldn’t recognize him in some instances. This was one case. 

It was tough adjusting to the new revelation that this man was an idol. He was a celebrity, and he had thousands of fans in this country and abroad. Wooyoung had not known what to do with such information, though as time passed he decided that he would keep his usual composure around him. In the end, he knew they were just ordinary people. 

Wearily, his fingers tightly held the seams of San’s shirt. Unaware of how to go about the situation without making things more awkward, he coughed, but that only worsened the tense atmosphere that seemed to surround them constantly. 

After a second of contemplation, San spoke up, “I should’ve been more honest with you.” He confessed, “And I should’ve been nicer to you when we first met . . .” 

Wooyoung nodded curtly. He was aware that they both hadn’t been kind upon first meeting. “Yeah. Me too.” 

“I’ll keep my promise to persuade you that I’m innocent,” He assured him. Gingerly, and without warning, San brushed away a stray hair that had fallen on Wooyoung’s forehead—carefully, naturally, like it was the casual thing to do (it was not!). His hand remained there, fingers lingering on his face. Wooyoung didn’t know what to do but keep still, afraid that if he moved, he would break their sweet, resolved silence. “Because I am innocent. I haven’t dated anyone in years, not with my duties as an . . . idol.” 

_Idol_. 

That word hung in the air heavily. 

He swallowed, “Well, when you say it like that, I can’t help but believe you.” 

San’s fierce, determined look suddenly turned into a soft, sunny smile. There it was, his infamous duality. “Really?” 

Wooyoung had no idea what to say, so he nodded his head for the second time. 

Above, San hugged him. It shocked Wooyoung, because it was sweaty and hot and . . . _comfortable_? Even though they barely knew one another. When people said that actions spoke louder than words, then this was what they must’ve meant. 

Hesitantly, he reached out to San, but stopped himself. Though after his hesitation, he placed his hands to the idol’s waist, keeping them securely there. 

He hadn’t considered how friendly San could be with him. He’d seen the man show skinship with nearly everyone else. It made Wooyoung feel like the third-wheel at times. But now, now he knew what all the fuss was about. 

Other than that, he was thankful they hadn’t argued up to that point. No doubt they still had a lot to work on, but for that moment, it was good enough. 

Actually, all of this reminded him of the times when he woke up to find himself being embraced by the sleeping San. His hold was strong, firm. It felt . . . nice . . . But this wasn’t the morning, and nor was Choi San asleep. He was hugging him because he _wanted_ to, and not because he was dreaming. After much thought, he agreed that both cases were equally as good. 

San’s nose brushed Wooyoung’s neck, breath ghosting along his skin as he rose to look at him again. It sent goosebumps down his spine, and he couldn’t help the warm flush that reached the tips of his ears. Thankfully, San hadn’t noticed. 

_He’s too close!_ Wooyoung thought to himself. 

Maybe forcing him to stay in this position was a bad idea? But it had proved successful. They had said their apologies, and now they were moving at a tolerable pace. Hopefully, this would help their work-life flow more smoothly. They could speak now, which was great improvement. 

What wasn’t great improvement, was that now he was starting to recognize something else. His heart beat faster when San turned his attention from elsewhere in the room and back to Wooyoung, eyes meeting. It was then that he finally saw why so many people fell for the idol. But in this case, he was starting to fall for the person _behind_ the famous facade. 

“Should we . . . get up now?” San asked. 

Wooyoung blinked. He was momentarily transfixed on the sweat traveling down San’s temple, into the curve of his unfairly sharp jaw, “Y-yeah.” 

San got up slightly, extending an arm out to him, “Do you need help getting up?” 

“No.” Wooyoung shook his head. “ _No_. I’m good.” 

San raised a brow but obeyed. He removed himself from Wooyoung to slide away, reaching the other side of the room and leaving him alone to grasp at nothing but air. He felt the heaviness of the man’s absence, and it didn’t feel good. He felt cold. 

Wooyoung dropped his arms to his face, eyes closed, but the idol’s image remained prominent in his mind, just as close as he was only moments ago. A hair’s breadth away, looking down at him—

He gave up. He didn’t know the man all that much, but he didn’t have to. 

Wooyoung was already halfway in love anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *OTL i must apologize for my slow updates :3 truth be told, each chapter takes quite a while to work on :")) you guys r so kind tho alsdhasjdha thank u for reading :3  
> *i am curious, did u pick 'wave' or ‘illusion' or both? :D
> 
>  
> 
> *comments r dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls lmk if there r any mistakes <3


	13. Chapter 13

“Mingi—?” 

Yunho was partly shell-shocked at the fact that his favorite idol was standing outside of his door, beneath his patio roof, dripping in water from the pouring rain outside. It was a sight to see, and it partly reminded him of something out of _Love Actually_ , but as soon as the idea was brought into his head, he dispelled it. Because in that moment, he figured that maybe giving the man a new pair of fresh, _dry_ clothes would be better. But then again, a wet Mingi was something he couldn’t miss the opportunity to see. _Ateez_ had yet to go for a ‘wet’ concept, kind of like _Alligator_ from Monsta X but— 

That wasn’t the point! 

His eyes remained wide as he stared at Mingi, whilst Mingi merely just smiled crookedly at him, sheepishly, like it was his fault the rain had started. All year and without a single indication of rain. Though with Spring showers and June gloom, it was no surprise that it had come to them in those weeks. Thankfully, it had arrived today, Sunday, in fact, after spending over two weeks in the presence of Mingi. Which, of course he could never get used to. Sometimes he had to poke at the idol to see if he was still real. 

Yunho wanted to poke the man’s cold, reddened cheek then, to check, but with a strong willpower he kept his hands to himself. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Yes, what was he doing there? Standing in front of his apartment, wet, shivering, and still _smiling_ for some reason, like Yunho was the literal sun itself. Never, in the days they’d spent together, had Yunho ever invited him over. He felt bad for that, but at the same time how could he just invite Mingi of _Ateez_ over to ‘hangout’? He needed time to prepare himself for that but—now he didn’t. 

Mingi, still dripping, held up a phone charger in the air, dry. He must’ve been keeping the charging device away from the rain by using _himself_ as a shield. He really didn’t have to do that. “Wooyoung told me to return this to you.” 

“You didn’t have to walk in the rain for that.” Yunho partly scolded, slipping a laugh. “You could’ve texted me.” 

“I lost my phone.” Mingi appeared incredibly guilty. But somehow he still looked great, even with his darkened blue hair plastered to his forehead. His leather jacket was literally the only thing that was capable of protecting him from the rain. 

“Oh.” Was all Yunho said. 

He’d heard of Mingi constantly losing his phone. So it came as no surprise that he misplaced it somewhere around town. He just hoped the idol hadn’t left it somewhere out, in the rain. 

Sighing, he raised a brow and opened his door wider for the man to step in, but not before instructing him to slip off his soaked Doc Martens upon entering the tiny living room. They were both tall, therefore they made his place look absolutely small. 

Yunho closed the door behind him, leaning against it for support. He felt both infuriated and pleased to have Mingi over, but a warning would’ve been nice. 

He knew that Wooyoung was mostly to blame. Unlike his own problems, he liked to delve into Yunho’s. Which was never a good idea. Now Mingi of _Ateez_ was standing in his living room, eyeing the room in wonder, totally wet, and Yunho had absolutely no idea what to do about it. Well, he could scold Wooyoung later. That was a good idea. “Mingi, take off your clothes.” 

Mingi’s look of wonderment at his apartment faltered, “Pardon?” 

“I can’t have you in those wet clothes.” Yunho tugged at his leather jacket. “You’ll get sick.” 

“O-oh, right.” The idol swung off his jacket and hung it gingerly on a dining room table chair. He barely became aware that he was soaking Yunho’s carpet. “Thanks.” 

“The bathroom is straight ahead on the right.” He instructed him. “I’ll lend you some clothes.” 

Mingi nodded slightly, turning in a full circle, searching for the bathroom before his eyes landed on Yunho’s, too close. Again, he was reminded of their height differences. Only by a bit was Yunho taller. But Mingi always held his chin up in the air, and he had great posture, which made him appear just as tall. 

Yunho looked away after their brief pause of simply staring at one another. He tended to do that a lot with him. He didn’t know why. “The clothes might be too big on you.” He said under his breath. 

The idol shook his head slowly, “S’okay.” 

Outside, the rain continued to pour.

# ________

Maybe it was a bad idea to tell Wooyoung that he liked Yunho. 

Because Mingi sure as hell knew that he _did_ like him. He just assumed that telling someone would actually prove his suspicions more. And they did, in fact, do just that. 

But now that he was there, in that apartment, he couldn’t find the strength to simply say it? Why? He’d confessed to multiple people before. It had been hard then, but why was it so much harder now? 

He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, exhaling. His hair was already drying in the warm air. He’d pushed his bangs back and out of his face, revealing his forehead and undercut. The clothes he’d worn previously were in the sink, still completely wet. And as for the ones he was currently wearing—they were big. 

Defeated, he grasped at the white T-shirt, watching as it hung on him widely. And as if to mock him, the shirt slipped off of one shoulder. Yeah, he felt like he was wearing boyfriend clothes. But he didn’t have a boyfriend. He just had a friend. 

He pressed a hand to his temples and leaned forward, closer to the mirror. A flush had settled on his cheeks, probably from how cold the rainy wind had been outside. “You can do this.” He said to himself. 

He couldn’t do this, actually.

# ________

Yunho sat beside him comfortably, both enwrapped in blankets. A fair distance away from each other, the teacher stayed scrolling through his phone as Mingi tried to find something to say. It was difficult. 

Somewhere in the background, he managed to relax in the soft sounds of the dryer currently drying his clothes. It was calm, but at the same time it was nerve-wracking. 

The warm hospitality was much appreciated, though as he held his warm tea, he tried to imagine different ways of confessing. He hated keeping secrets. Sometimes he tended to blurt things out without thinking. This time he promised himself he wouldn’t do that. 

Yunho tilted his head, disrupting him, “Where did you lose your phone?” 

Mingi thought to himself. He had no idea where he had put it. Like many other times, he’d misplaced it. It was probably at the school, or the house, or somewhere in town. Maybe. “Uh . . . ?” 

“I can track it.” Yunho held his own phone up, offering. But as the rain continued to knock against the wide window to their left, they both collectively agreed that maybe it was best to do that when it wasn’t raining. 

Yunho shrugged, “We’ll have to exchange numbers again if you lose it.” 

“No need to.” Mingi said, unaware of how it sounded. 

Yunho raised a brow. 

“I mean—” Mingi replied hurriedly, “I may have memorized it . . .” 

“Oh . . .” The teacher turned away, “Right.” 

Silence. 

This was it. This was the moment to confess. He had to do it, or else all was lost. Yunho looked incredibly composed and relaxed, so unlike what Mingi was currently feeling. Honestly, he had no idea if Yunho felt the same way. He most likely didn’t. But Mingi had to clear the air, he had to be truthful. It was just something he always did. 

But then again, he hadn’t thought of the consequences. He was an idol, therefore rumors could be spread. He could even get Yunho hurt. He didn’t want to do that intentionally. But he also didn’t want Yunho to find out through something like Dispatch. It was best to reveal his feelings now before he regretted it later. 

“Yunho . . .” He began, “I—” 

“I talked to my mom yesterday and she asked about you.” Yunho said suddenly, rising from his position on the couch. 

Mingi was left with his mouth open, unsaid words hanging on his tongue. “R-really?” 

The teacher stopped at the kitchen sink, placing his mug down and turning to face Mingi, his back against the counter. “She saw the video you posted of us on social media . . .” 

“Am I her bias?” Mingi asked. The confession would have to wait, apparently. He was okay with that. Probably. Not. 

“I think she likes you best.” Yunho admitted. 

Without thinking, again, Mingi replied, “Then . . . who’s your bias?” 

Yunho looked taken aback.

# ________

“Then . . . who’s your bias?” Mingi asked, so quiet. 

Yunho’s mouth dropped open. He had no idea what to say. He averted his attention elsewhere. Mingi’s gaze was penetrating. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected any of this. Also, he’d hadn’t _asked_ for this. Mingi showing up to be his assistant teacher? That was definitely not Yunho’s doing. Mingi arriving at his door and being his _friend_? Well, that was partly his fault. 

He stared at the idol for a long second before hanging his head low to let out a small laugh. An awkwardness had enveloped between them when his question was said aloud, but now he could finally get it off his chest. 

Mingi gazed at him expectantly. 

Yunho shrugged, “My bias is tall.” He revealed, slipping further into the kitchen to check the fridge magnets nonchalantly, but also to not look Mingi directly in the eye. “I like his voice, a lot . . . and he’s got great visuals.” 

It was fairly obvious who he was talking about, right? But then again, Yunho could’ve been talking about any member of _Ateez_ with that short description. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to explain his bias. It would’ve been best if he’d just said it aloud. 

_Mingi,_ you’re _my bias. Haven’t I been clear?_

But the quietness from Mingi in the living room didn’t help. Yunho turned for a moment to look at the idol from beneath the kitchen cupboards and was slightly confused at the indifferent reaction from the man. 

Had he said something offense? Did he not know Yunho was talking about _him_? No, no probably not. 

“But . . . I really respect every member,” Yunho said quickly, exiting the kitchen to stride quickly back to his position on the sofa. “I’m amazed by everyone’s hard work.” 

Mingi blew at his tea. The distant look in his eye was gone now, replaced with alertness at Yunho’s words. “Oh.” 

Oh no. Did this idol not like the fact that Yunho’s bias was him? Or did Mingi think Yunho was talking about someone else? Seonghwa maybe? Seonghwa also fit that description pretty well. 

Yunho brought the blanket up to his face, regretting.

# ________

Mingi could only think of one person who fit that description. 

It was Seonghwa. 

Yunho’s bias was _Seonghwa_. How could he not have known or recognized that? Unless Yunho was talking about someone else? But who? Everyone technically fit that dsecription, even himself, but—Mingi wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t even set on assuming that Yunho _was_ talking about Seonghwa. 

He ran his hands through his hair, steam from the teacup obstructing his view of the teacher sitting across from him. 

What was Mingi going to do now? Confessing was out of the question, even though that was his main intention from the start. Coming straight to the source of it all was beginning to look pretty bad. Mingi didn’t even know what to say anymore, let alone what to do. 

His thoughts continued to run amok until Yunho cleared his throat. Mingi looked up, only to be met with a hint of a smile playing on the teacher’s face. He was untroubled, completely unbothered, which was the opposite of what Mingi was currently feeling. 

And what with the hot tea and the blanket, and the heater on full blast, Mingi could feel the apples of his cheeks warm. He could see it in Yunho too as he glanced at Mingi, but then turned away again to stare at the rain tapping at the opened window. 

Mingi seriously just wanted to confess to him then and there, without regret. To set his tea down and lean forward across the couch, place his hot forehead to Yunho’s equally hot face and demand his attention. To feel how warm another human could be, to become aware of the sensation of holding someone again, because he damn well missed how it felt. 

Mingi held onto his teacup tighter, expelling those thoughts away. 

What was he thinking? 

Yunho spoke up, “It’s getting late.” 

Without replying, he nodded at the teacher’s remark. He knew that statement was another way of saying that it was almost time to leave. It was best if he did. 

“Stay the night.” Yunho said, quietly. 

Mingi’s eyes focused and widened in response. “What?” 

“I-It’s still raining—” Yunho eyed the rain pounding against the window. “You can sleep on the couch.” 

“That’s . . .” Mingi began, but stopped. 

_That sounds great_. He wanted to say, though he left that unsaid. 

His heart had sped up in such a short amount of time, he felt faint. He hadn’t thought of actually spending the night. It had never crossed his mind, because the idea of spending the night always drifted into _other_ ideas. But in this case they were only friends. This was just someone extending a helping hand to him. That was all. And honestly, that was what he needed. 

“Yeah.” Mingi continued, “That sounds great. Thank you.” 

Yunho sat back in the cushions of the couch, not meeting his eye. The blankets were currently concealing half his face, but Mingi didn’t need to see much in order to tell that the teacher was smiling. 

The rain didn’t matter in that moment. In fact, the sound of falling water was completely muted out by the fast pace of his heart. 

It was a great beat.

# ________

The principal of the school sat comfortably at his desk, hands pressed together as he regarded Wooyoung with a proud smile. The man was probably older than his own father, and his children were fellow students in Wooyoung’s dance class. He’d known the family since he arrived in the small town, and wasn’t actually surprised to see that the man had known San for a long, long time. 

Just thinking about the idol sent a row of goosebumps down his arm. He didn’t know why, but the thought of the young man was enough to make him feel confused. Because before he had hated him, correct? But now—

Back in the taekwondo studio, and in the days afterward, his emotions had become so clouded and confusing, he didn’t know what to think at times. It was infuriating. And in some moments, he wanted to go back to not knowing exactly why he felt so overwhelmed in San’s presence. But now that he knew why, well, it had changed things, including his view on the idol he shouldn’t have judged. San was a great guy and a good friend. A _friend_. 

He just needed time to remember that idol life was hard, therefore San probably had more things to worry about than Wooyoung’s change in attitude. In the end, it was just a one-sided attraction. Unrequited. 

San would have to go back to Seoul eventually, and he would forget all about Wooyoung. San wasn’t one to reveal much, and so it was a possibility he _was_ dating, just like Dispatch had said. Though Wooyoung knew it was none of his business. 

“How do you like your new assistant?” The elderly principal asked. 

Wooyoung shifted in his seat. Usually, he was familiar enough with the older man to be comfortable, though now with the mention of his ‘assistant’, he grew stiff. 

“He’s . . . been of great help, actually . . .” Wooyoung trailed off. 

The principal clasped his hands, happy about their working relationship, “Excellent. Very good to hear that.” 

“But, sir—” He was cut off. 

“Then I guess you’ll have to introduce him to the vocal teacher.” The old man told him, “He is returning tomorrow from his vacation.” 

That made Wooyoung pause. 

“Our vocal teacher is coming back?” He questioned. He never thought he’d see—

“I know he’ll be working closely with San, since he’s also a vocalist.” The principal said, not noticing the surprise on Wooyoung’s face. “It’ll be a great reunion. They grew up together, you see. In Seoul, I believe.” 

“They grew up together . . .?” Wooyoung’s heart twisted in his chest. What was this? A plot for a romance novel? “Since when?” 

“I heard they were trainees under the same company.” The man informed him, raising a brow, “Did he not tell you?” 

No, he certainly never heard that. San was extremely private about his idol life, though Wooyoung could guess as to why. With news sources and people constantly wanting to know more about him, it was obvious how careful he’d become of revealing certain facts about himself. 

But this . . . this came as a complete surprise, because Wooyoung had just assumed another vocalist teacher would fill that position. Maybe even San—though he wasn’t exactly sure. 

“He’s never mentioned it.” Wooyoung admitted, eyes falling to his shoes. For some reason, he’d felt dissapointed. Why? It was none of his business who San grew up with. Wooyoung didn’t care about the idol. 

“You two are becoming close, I hear.” The principal said, raising his brow again. “That’s nice to hear.” 

Wooyoung didn’t say anything, until, “Well if Yeosang is coming back as the vocal teacher, maybe they’ll become close too.” 

The older man watched him and smiled, “Maybe.” 

He sighed. A bundle of nerves had settled at the pit of his stomach. He loved Yeosang, he really did, and he was excited to have him back. But knowing he knew San, it had changed his perspective on him slightly. 

So they’d known one another long before Wooyoung even knew them both? He’d known San for almost a month now, and he knew Yeosang for around two years. How long had those two spent training together exactly? 

Whatever he was feeling, it was probably just anticipation. It was definitely not jealousy. No way. “Yeah.” He replied uneasily. “I think they’ll be happy to see each other again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yeosang is finally arriving~~~  
> *I’m really really sorry everyone for the slow update~!!! So much has happened to me in my long time away from AO3 and it’s still affecting me even now. I’m taking some time to get over it, but this fanfic has never left my mind. I am determined to complete this no matter what!!! :”)) I found it’s gonna be 20 chapters long so 7 more chapters to go until it’s done~  
> *Also If anyone is on the bird app, here is my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/halahalamp3) if you’d like to visit me :3 For updates on this story and if u have any questions too :3


	14. Chapter 14

First of all, the dance room was sweltering. 

It must’ve been one of the hottest days of the year, considering it was already the beginning of Summer, as well as the end of gloomy Spring days. But for some reason it was humid, and he didn’t know if it was because of the natural beach weather that occurred in the small town, or if it was due to the remnants of the rain from the day before. 

Anyway, it was too hot to even breathe, that was why the wide windows had been left open all night, to let the hot air escape into equally hot air outside, in the hopes of lessening the heat entrapped in the small room. 

Billowing white curtains licked into the place, allowing a gust of ocean-scented, warm breezes as they searched for their breaths. Sweat slicked their foreheads, plastered their hair to their faces, and ran down their necks. 

It would’ve been easier if he’d just _waited_ to begin class, but the competitive spirit between he and the idol had driven them to begin the lesson already. 

He slumped on the ground, hands tracing the lines of the glossy wood on the floor, feeling his damp skin stick to his black T-shirt. He wanted to just take it off, and he would’ve, had it not been for the presence of this idol and the impending classroom that was to come at any moment. 

The vocal class returned to the schedule, and so that meant dance class had been pushed back by at least half and hour. Therefore Wooyoung had received the chance to focus more on his lesson plans and suggestions for the final test at the end of the year. 

He figured maybe deconstructing a perfect choreography would be a good idea, though with other classes coming into the mix, he figured students needed time to study for other subjects. Which left him at a standstill because that gave him extra time to think about certain things. 

Choi San was his assistant, so that meant Wooyoung had to work on a choreography with _him_. As much as he wanted to seperate the assignment into two parts, he knew he needed to actually work with the idol who’d given his time to the school and students. 

When he looked at the situation in that light, San seemed more of like a good person than what the tabloids said. The idol had stepped into Wooyoung’s shoes, and he found that he’d learned a lot more about San—much more than San had learned about Wooyoung. 

He turned to glance at him for a moment, watching as the man had his back turned to him, shirt raised to wipe the sweat off his forehead, revealing toned muscles beneath. No doubt evidence of the hard work he’d done at his job. 

Wooyoung bit his lip as he closed his eyes. He wanted to leave. He didn’t want to be found staring at someone he knew would never be able to see him in _that_ way. Wooyoung was incredibly stubborn, stubborn enough to realize that the guy he hated at first was in fact the guy he ended up falling for. 

Damn, he hadn’t done that in a while. But then again he’d been jumping from one small town to the next, without a chance to actually _let_ himself fall for anyone. 

He brought his legs to his chest, face resting against his knees as he groaned silently. They’d been working on a new-ish choreography for Fake Love, which was one of his favorite songs. Surprisingly, San had added a little too much to the choreo—and by ‘too much’, he meant flair. 

San nudged him softly as Wooyoung raised his head to see him. He was greeted by a small smile and a hand outstretched towards him, inviting him to stand up. 

He lost his breath. 

“We need to get that part down before class starts, right?” San took his hand and brought him up carefully. Ever since that taekwondo incident, San had been much gentler around him, especially when they were dancing. 

Wooyoung nodded curtly, releasing their sweaty hands immediately, “Yeah.” 

“The killing part is the one we’re having the most trouble with . . .” San started with the footwork, gazing at them in the mirror as he did so, unaware of how Wooyoung was feeling. 

Wooyoung was still in a daze from the heat, though he tried to remain focused once again. But at the same time he couldn’t exactly _focus_ on mastering the ‘killing part’ because—

San brought his hand to Wooyoung’s face softly, not nearly touching his skin as he inched closer, close enough to almost brush their noses together. Wooyoung had suffered through this for hours, for this part he couldn’t muster up the courage to do. 

“We should probably stay this close during the verse Taehyung-sunbaenim sings,” San said, hushed. 

Wooyoung held his breath in response and stepped away after a second, eyes averted. 

This dance routine was really taking a toll on him. 

He didn’t exactly know just how long they’d been at it. Hours, yes, but also in the nights before they’d stayed together too, past school hours simply discussing what they should do, as well as things Wooyoung never thought they’d discuss. He was afraid to say it, but they were getting much closer than he anticipated. 

Never did he think he’d actually befriend someone from _Ateez_. Yunho was probably happy to see that progress, though his friend was most likely still holding a grudge from that incident the day before, when Wooyoung had sent Mingi to Yunho’s house, uninvited. 

Wooyoung smiled softly to himself at the image. If he’d been paying more attention, he would’ve noticed San looking at him curiously. 

The idol coughed to break his train of thought, “Wooyoung.” For the past ten minutes Wooyoung had moved off to the side, retracing the steps he remembered from watching a fancam of Park Jimin—

“Yes?” He looked up, dazed from his thoughts. 

San raised a brow. The man was closer than Wooyoung had previously thought. “I think our legs might be tangling up when we come together like this—” San mimicked the familiar move. 

Wooyoung nodded, contemplating a solution. Instead of stepping forward after their killing part, they could take a step away. Left foot, and then right foot, and then return to their original positions. “Get into position, then.” 

The idol obeyed without question. It was interesting watching San work. The focus and undivided attention Wooyoung received from him was . . . incredible. He couldn’t describe how hardworking the man actually was. People would have to see for themselves. But then again, Wooyoung could clearly see the years of training when San danced. He couldn’t imagine what it was like seeing him at a music show or on tour. It must’ve been an amazing sight. 

So that meant Wooyoung couldn’t distract himself with a silly crush. This was work. If San was focused, then Wooyoung had to be _more_ focused. He needed to be just as professional, because in the end that was what he was. A professional dancer. 

“When we come together like this,” Wooyoung took a step forward as San stepped back with his left, “Bring your face close to mine . . .” He bent down and then back up, taking each step cautiously. They had to be careful or else they would fall. 

San faltered as they retraced their steps, slowly this time, and at one point he held onto Wooyoung to balance himself out. “S-sorry . . .” 

Wooyoung took his arms, eyes locking onto San’s. Without the eyeliner and dark makeup, the idol looked less intimidating than in pictures. The one Yunho had sent that day was pretty difficult to digest. In person, San was gentle, but as an idol he was pretty hard to approach—though that was what Wooyoung thought. He couldn’t exactly say that for everyone. 

And the idol must’ve noticed he was staring, because he stopped keeping track of their footwork and instead looked to Wooyoung—

Which was a bad idea because then Wooyoung missed his step and accidentally brought San down as he fell back. It wasn’t surprising. They’d fallen on countless occasions. The dance was a tough one to begin with, but making a partially new choreography in a matter of days? It was near to impossible. 

After a few seconds of realizing their mistake, Wooyoung placed his hand behind his head, expecting it to throb. He’d fallen on the floor, but was surprised to find that another hand had protected his head from the fall. Two, in fact. 

He blinked, oblivious of their close proximity until his eyes fixed themselves onto the larger figure above, hair hiding the expression in front of him. 

San, slipped one hand away from Wooyoung’s head to lift himself up slightly. He appeared more confused than Wooyoung did, but that was due to the fact that this technically wasn’t his fault. 

“Again.” The idol simply said, so close Wooyoung could feel his breath. 

Wooyoung wanted to raise his sore knees, though it was hard to when their legs were tangled. San was right. They should’ve thought this through before actually trying out any new steps. Wooyoung was just impatient for many reasons. 

“Are you okay?” San raked his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, feeling for a bump or a bruise, until his fingers came to hold Wooyoung’s jaw and then to his cheek. Every movement felt gentle, like San was genuinely concerned over his well-being. “Did you hit your head hard?” 

Wooyoung cursed internally. This wasn’t what he needed at the moment. He could hardly keep his eye contact at that point. All he wanted to do was . . . 

He bit his lip once more, hands _still_ grabbing onto San’s shoulders. He wasn’t in pain, thank goodness. No, this time he felt quite the opposite. “I-I’m fine.” 

Wooyoung didn’t know what to do _again_. How many times had they fallen on top of one another? He’d guessed it must’ve happened when they were both asleep too, on the same bed but—that wasn’t the point! 

San, still with that worried expression on his face, waited for Wooyoung to say anymore. It was hard to, considering how close they were. They could’ve easily knocked their heads together if they weren’t weary, they could’ve even . . . 

_Kiss_. He thought. 

No. No that wasn’t fair. Not for San. Because San didn’t feel the same way. And he was an _idol_ , with headlines of a scandal and popularity and major responsibilities. Wooyoung couldn’t fit his life into that, no matter how much he wanted it. Though, maybe if San wanted him, then—

Unaware of what he was doing, as he thought of every denial he could, he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry San . . . we should get up . . .”

# ________

San didn’t know what the hell to do. 

Wooyoung and he had fallen to the ground in an attempt at the killing part. But unlike back at the taekwondo studio, this was . . . different? Because this time they weren’t upset. They were merely dance partners practicing a new choreography. 

His partner below him looked at him dazedly, and then he closed his eyes slowly, lashes casting shadows against his cheeks. San wanted to stand up asap, but Wooyoung still had his hands on him. “I’m sorry San . . . we should get up . . .” 

San opened his mouth to reply, though he couldn’t find anything to say. This one-sided crush was kind of killing him. It’d been slow for days, weeks, and even though they’d finally gotten along, he gradually became well-aware that maybe he couldn’t stay being friends with someone who he actually wanted to . . . be with. 

But how could he confess? What was the best way to do that? 

He stopped to stare at Wooyoung, at his eyes, and then to his lips. It’d been seconds since they’d fallen, but it felt like an hour had passed. Why?

“Wooyoung . . .” He said. He was so close, close enough to—

He turned his head slightly at an angle, to catch the slightly parted lips below him, but . . . 

Before he could do that, he was interrupted.

“Wooyoung?” Someone said from behind them, “San?”

# ________

Wooyoung opened his eyes at the sound of the familiar voice. For a second there, he must’ve imagined it too but—he swore he felt . . . something close to his face. But what? 

San was looking in the same direction as Wooyoung. Behind, tall and with his arms crossed, Yeosang was standing near the dance room door, watching them both with a raised brow and a playful smile on his face. 

He appeared just the same as when Wooyoung last saw him, except this time his winter clothes were replaced by a laid-back summer button-up and cuffed jeans. He was infamous for being popular among the students. It was no surprise, really. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Yeosang asked them, leaning against the dance room mirror railing. Despite that pure personality, the man had a dual, mischievous side. “Should I come back later?” 

“N-no.” San said quickly, releasing himself quite fast from Wooyoung’s hold to stand up as well. 

Wooyoung half-glared at the idol for his hurriedness, but then gave up and sat forward, waving at the newly arrived vocal teacher. “We were just practicing a new dance routine.” 

“Really?” Yeosang eyed San and smiled. “Is that what’s happening?” 

“We fell.” San replied, eyeing Yeosang just as sharply. “Nothing else.” 

Wooyoung looked from San to Yeosang, back and forth until he noticed that they must’ve been having a silent conversation. Wooyoung knew those two were acquainted already. They’d been trainees. 

As for Wooyoung, well . . . “I-It’s nice to have you back, Yeosangie.” 

San turned to look at them both, studying them carefully. “You two know each other? How?” 

“I’m a teacher here.” Yeosang said, waving to Wooyoung with an elated smile, “It’s nice to see you again too, Wooyoung.” 

The idol threw a cautious glance at Yeosang, who, did nothing but raise his brow once more. 

Yeah, there was something going on between those two.

# ________

He hadn’t seen his friend in years. The last he saw him must’ve been in passing, about four years ago when _Ateez_ was still in the process of their worldwide success. The man had worked at KQ for a short time as a vocalist instructor, but after that he had left the company to work at local schools instead. 

They were close, certainly, but with idol life always in the way, and what with Yeosang and his duties as a teacher—it was incredibly hard to keep in touch. Adulthood really was maddening. 

What was surprising to San though, was the fact that Yeosang and Wooyoung knew each other, and rather well too. It shouldn’t have been shocking, honestly. Yeosang was a great dancer and singer, and he would’ve debuted, had the company cooperated enough to give him more lines.

Still, he figured that being a teacher meant having certain connections, especially if one travelled around a lot, just like Wooyoung and Yeosang both. But as San watched them give their formal ‘welcome back!’ and hugs, he felt a little too weary about it all. They looked . . . _close_ , like really good friends or maybe . . . 

No. He couldn’t jump to conclusions. But at the same time Yeosang was very handsome and a great person so—who wouldn’t fall for him? 

Wait—

Was this jealousy? 

San gripped the desk below him as he leaned on it, silent in the small office of the vocal teacher. Yeosang was unpacking a box behind him, no doubt getting ready to settle himself back in. Wooyoung was nowhere to be found. Which was surprising because he looked too ecstatic to see Yeosang again only moments ago. 

“So what was that all about, really?” Yeosang said casually from behind. 

He’d grown taller than when San last saw him. Truth be told, he wasn’t angry at the sudden arrival of his old friend. In fact, he was also happy. It was good to see him. 

He let out a long sigh, remembering how he’d almost exposed his feelings. Yeosang had been a saviour back there. “Nothing.” San said with finality, turning to him to send a reluctant smile. “That really wasn’t anything.” 

The teacher nodded, reading his expression, “I think I get the gist.” 

San threw him a questioning gaze, “Pardon?” 

Yeosang shrugged, “You like him.” 

He choked. 

_Was it that obvious?_

“I—I don’t—” He began, but was interrupted by a small laugh. 

“Are you jealous?” Yeosang asked, eyes glistening with amusement. He looked thoroughly entertained at the fact that his old friend was suffering. “I don’t think there’s any need to be.” 

_Yes there is_. 

“I’m not jealous.” San said, looking away. He sounded too guilty. 

Yeosang placed a laptop on the desk, “ . . . right.” 

“I’m not.” He said again, quieter this time. 

Well, he had already admitted his realized feelings. What he needed to do now was evident. He had to organize his thoughts, but how? For days he’d tried to muster up the courage to talk to Wooyoung about it all, though he had no idea how to go about doing that. They were together always, literally 24/7, at home, when they slept, in the morning, in class, after class—he’d had so many opportunities to be clear about how he felt. So why was it so hard? 

Yeosang had partly helped him figure out the answer. Despite being always together, there was constantly someone else there, like Yunho, Mingi, his parents, their students and now Yeosang. There had to be some way to—

San paused his thinking. 

There _was_ a way he could pull Wooyoung to the side to speak with him frankly about what was on his mind. He couldn’t be a coward for any longer. San had to let Wooyoung know everything, even if it was daunting. 

Wooyoung . . . 

If only he knew what was on his mind.

# ________

The only thing that was on Wooyoung’s mind was the fact that he liked Choi San. A lot. 

Why had he closed his eyes in that moment? Had he wanted San to kiss him? Yes, yes he had wanted him to do just that. Why? Well, he liked him. That’s why. 

And then there was the matter with Yeosang. When he first heard that the vocal teacher was coming back, he’d felt something uncertain. Like, a sort of ominous thing was going to come and disrupt his already chaotic bubble. 

It had. It really had. Now he was feeling jealous and infuriated when in reality he should’ve been happier of his friend’s arrival. 

The Fire Sign in him was really losing such patience in the matter. He just wanted this all to be done and over with so that he could go on to live his normal life once more. A life without Choi San, and a life where he could gladly enjoy the teasing of his friends, which, he was not doing so now. 

Yeosang called him after school had ended, and what with Yunho already at the door waiting for Wooyoung to head to dinner with him, it was decided that bringing along the vocal teacher was a great idea. 

Well, it sort of wasn’t, because now Yunho was getting roasted about his matter with Mingi. Wooyoung slightly forgot that Yeosang had actually trained with those people. Thinking back, it would’ve been beneficial for Yunho to know that beforehand. Wooyoung really wasn’t sparing him in the slightest. 

The three of them sat in their usual dinner spot in the restaurant they frequented. It was a weekday, thus the place was packed. Luckily the manager liked Yeosang too much to make him stand in the waiting area. 

Still, despite Yeosang looking glad to be back, Yunho and Wooyoung must’ve had the same faces of guilt. They’d fallen for people they shouldn’t have given a second thought about. 

Yeosang took a sip from his beer, eyes darting from one friend to the next as he listened to their confessions. It felt like old times, honestly. 

“So you like Mingi?” The vocal teacher said calmly. Much calmer than Wooyoung had anticipated. “Are you talking about _Song Mingi_?” 

“Yes I’m talking about _that_ Mingi.” He said quickly, most likely worried about the volume of Yeosang’s deep voice. “I know, I know—I shouldn’t be.” 

“And you like San.” Yeosang turned to Wooyoung, “Like, as in _Choi San_?” 

“You’re enjoying this too much.” Wooyoung replied, sitting back. 

Yeosang smirked in response, as if to say, _Yes, yes I am. And what about it?_

Yunho played with the condensation on his beer glass, pouting at nothing in particular. Wooyoung had almost forgotten to ask how that little ‘sleepover’ went. He’d sent Mingi to Yunho’s place unannounced, but he was still unsure as to whether or not Yunho was angry about that. Wooyoung knew how much Mingi liked his friend, but it was a matter of convincing Yunho the truth of it. He was definitely not going to believe it. 

Silently, the three of them continued to drink. It was all they could do in that moment. Truth be told, they were close enough already to understand what the silence meant. It meant that they were all still so doubtful of what they needed to do about their love lives. 

“Well, they’re great guys,” Yeosang inputted. His eyes were focused on the view beside them, from the large window overlooking the park next to Yunho’s apartment. “Mingi looks absolutely smitten with you—” 

Yunho coughed as he swallowed down a gulp of his drink. “W-what—?” 

Yeosang continued, “And I have no idea why the hell Dispatch is adamant that San was cheating on a non-existant girlfriend.” For once in his short arrival, his pleasant smile disappeared for a second, revealing a look of hidden anger. Wooyoung was kind of surprised at how furious Yeosang was in regards to the rumor. They must’ve been really close . . . 

Wooyoung kept silent as he heard this, but looked up when he felt Yeosang staring at him. “I heard . . . about that . . .” 

“It’s not true.” Yeosang said so confidently, Wooyoung could do nothing but believe in him. “Everyone back in Seoul already have faith he wasn’t involved.” 

Wooyoung chose to look outside the window as well, avoiding eye contact. He still felt guilty over assuming the worst in San. It constantly reminded him that it was his fault they couldn’t become something more than just friends. If Wooyoung hadn’t doubted him at first, then by now would they have been—? 

“But I’m happy he has you.” Yeosang added, smiling knowingly at him. “I’m glad you guys found each other.” 

Both Yunho and Wooyoung exchanged looks before their eyes fell on Yeosang. It was strange how everything was connected. As if, it was all meant to be. They were all meant to meet each other at one point, even if they didn’t exactly want to. 

Wooyoung knew he would’ve been better off living the life he used to know, without romance, without having to worry about not falling for a friend. 

He couldn’t have imagined any of this, especially after remembering how much he hated San in the beginning. Well, he still hated him now for making him fall in love, but at the same time it was Wooyoung’s fault as well. 

He had to do something. Or nothing at all. 

Maybe this would all just blow over? San would get his name cleared eventually and then leave to Seoul. Wooyoung would never see him again, and that would be fine. 

That _would_ be fine . . . right? 

Wooyoung got up from the table suddenly, feeling overwhelmed. He didn’t know why but—he really just wanted to see him, to see San. 

He couldn’t understand it. He just felt anxious that the man was going to leave. Which was impossible, surely. Wooyoung was simply being anxious for absolutely no reason. 

“Wooyoung?” Yeosang called to him. He didn’t appear astonished at his actions. It made Wooyoung wonder if the man knew more than what he let on. 

He had no time for that though. Because he really wanted to see him. He wanted to see San. 

“I’m—” Wooyoung glanced at his friends, feeling guilty for leaving them just when they arrived. “I need to do something.” 

Was this what it was like to be in love? Well, he didn’t like it one bit. 

If only he knew he would eventually eat those words very, very soon.

# ________

The house was partly dark when he arrived. 

With the coming of Summer, the sun was setting at later times, thus the evening remained looking much like late afternoon, even though it was already reaching 8, past the usual dinner time at home. 

He wasn’t fully aware of the empty house when he opened the door, nor of the silence that enveloped the place. The only thing he could really pay much attention to was his darkened room at the end of the hallway, with the remaining light of the day spilling into the windows that’d been drawn partly shut in the living room. 

For once, he took it upon himself to actual view the hallway to his left where, countless pictures stood hanging, revealing a whole life he’d never actually noticed before. 

Sometimes it’d seemed like an invasion of privacy, looking at the baby and middle school photos displayed so proudly on the wall. His own home was like that as well, and he wondered if maybe San was just as embarrassed as Wooyoung was when it came to awkward family photos such as these. 

He hadn't understood why, but he never decided to see the pictures of San as an adult. He could guess which ones were his pre-debut photos, and which ones were not. There was even a photo of the entire group of _Ateez_ holding up a huge trophy, dressed finely at an award show, and appearing so emotional, it tugged at his heart. 

San was everywhere, and Wooyoung didn’t know how he could’ve missed it in all the months he’d spent there. But he guessed that maybe it was his stubborn personality that kept him from actually wanting to. 

Today he learned that he was capable of feeling jealousy, even though he didn’t need to be. He also learned that this friendship thing was going to hurt him. 

He didn’t want to think of that though. All he wanted to do was see San, but judging from the dark room, he figured he wasn’t there. Why would he be? 

Wooyoung sighed under his breath, leaving the memories and the photos behind to open his door wide. He was about to throw his bag down onto the ground when he saw a lump lying on the bed. 

It was San. 

The dwindling sun cast enough light from the opened window to let Wooyoung know that he was there. It’d been an extremely hot day, so it was no surprise San had grown tired from dancing in such conditions. Wooyoung felt the same. 

The idol looked up from his glowing phone. The glare from the device cast a shadow against his sharp face, revealing a small, relieved smile that made Wooyoung feel a bit more light-headed. It was already humid in the house, but the effect of simply seeing San made it a lot worse. 

Wooyoung felt his breath hitch as San put his phone down, getting up slightly, “You’re back.” The idol stated, “Wooyoung, I have something to tell you—” 

“D-don’t get up yet.” Wooyoung cut him off. 

He didn’t know much of what he wanted in that moment. But what he did know, was that he wanted to _talk_. They were at each other’s side constantly, though they seemed to never talk enough. It was frustrating. 

Tiredly, he tossed his bag to the side and slowly climbed atop the small bed, stretching his limbs. San merely watched him, phone face-down and untouched, as if he also wanted to talk too. 

Wooyoung rested his head on his pillow, lying directly across from San, a fair distance away. They’d spent so many days fighting over the bed, sharing it, it almost felt natural to lay there with him. That tension had faded between them long ago. It made him wonder what else would fade away in the coming weeks. 

“You okay?” San said, voice soft. He didn’t need to be much louder than a whisper. The entire house was empty. It was completely silent, besides the sounds of the cicadas buzzing outside from the window. 

He nodded. His limbs felt like jelly. He was genuinely tired, it all must’ve numbed his senses. His anxiety had long disappeared when he reached the bed. “I don’t know what came over me right now.” 

San grinned, “Yeah.” He muttered. “Me too.” 

“How . . . how long have you been here exactly?” Wooyoung asked quietly. He kept searching San’s face, to read his mind, but it was impossible. 

“I was waiting for you, actually.” He replied, leaning on one arm to look down at him. 

Wooyoung looked up at the man, eyes wide, questioning his motives. “Why?” 

At that, San turned away to look elsewhere, avoiding his gaze. Something had flickered in his eyes as he did this, almost like he was protecting a secret. 

Again, San was keeping it all to himself. Wooyoung couldn’t blame him for being so private. 

Surprisingly though, San answered sincerely, “I wanted to ask you something.” 

Wooyoung’s heart jumped in his chest. 

_Me too_. He thought. 

“First, I want to apologize for making the choreography difficult.” San smiled guiltily at him. It made Wooyoung want to disagree, to assure him it wasn’t his fault, none of it. 

But he stayed where he was, imagining what could’ve been. 

San gradually slid his hand in between them, playing with the sheets, “It was my fault we had so much trouble with it today, so I want to make it up to you.” 

Wooyoung tilted his head. This wasn’t what he had expected. “What?” 

“Remember how I offered to introduce you to some places around town?” San asked, “I was thinking . . . if you haven’t visited the beach yet this year . . .” 

Without giving it a second thought, Wooyoung rose from his spot and leaned forward, “Yes.” He said, so close San barely had time to move away. “Yes, I’ll go.” 

San blinked, slightly shocked until his mouth curved into a smile, eyes crinkling as he did so. “Really?” 

“Is that so hard to believe?” Wooyoung asked. The feeling of comfort faded as he grew angry at the man’s doubtfulness. 

The idol scoffed at him. “Well . . . yeah.” 

“Do you not want me to come anymore?” Wooyoung tested him. 

Just like he had seconds ago, San leaned forward to protest, but not without knocking their heads together in the semi-darkness. 

Yeah, maybe doing all of this without proper lighting whilst lying down next to one another was a bad idea. 

They rubbed their foreheads, wincing at their stupidity. 

Wooyoung gave up, finally, and plopped himself onto his pillows, closing his eyes. “San.” 

He could feel San sink down onto the bed, probably doing the same thing as Wooyoung. “Yes?” 

_Do you like me?_

Wooyoung opened his eyes, staring at the cieling. In the morning he would definitely feel a little more nervous about the offer. Now, he felt thoroughly . . . confused? More like an outing, it sounded like San was doing all of this to tell him something important. 

Was he going back to Seoul early? Had he caught onto what Wooyoung was feeling? Was Wooyoung going to be rejected by him? 

He exhaled. “Never mind.” 

Like many times before, he was jumping to conclusions. Still, going to the beach with _San_? Did the idol have a fever or something? Why ask Wooyoung to hang out? They were friends, yes, it was his way of apologizing, yes, but they weren’t incredibly close enough to do that yet, right?

It was then that he was reminded of the way Yeosang and San spoke to one another. They were all close in age, but those two spoke more casually together than they did with him. It made him feel left out. 

Jealousy came crawling back up as he looked to San. The idol had his eyes closed, chest rising up and down peacefully. The thought of someone else in Wooyoung’s place made his skin crawl. He hated feeling that way. It was probably why he accepted the offer so quickly. 

_What is this all about really, San?_

Wooyoung wanted to ask that aloud, but he didn’t. And before he knew it, he’d grown too tired to care. 

He hadn’t even taken notice of how unusually close he was to San on the bed. Fingers inches away from the young man he so desperately wanted to reach already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wooyoung pls it's a date. A DATE. smh  
> *wait, woosan finally get to go on a date in this fic?! O_O  
> *Also, I always wondered what it was like for them to learn that Fake Love choreo? Like, did they ever fall? Did they fall on top of each other? Who suggested they look into each other’s eyes like that?? 
> 
> *comments r dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls lmk if there r any mistakes <3  
> *[twitter](https://twitter.com/halahalamp3) <3


	15. Chapter 15

There was no way he was ever going to do that again. 

And by ‘that’ he meant whatever he did last night. He couldn’t even imagine what he’d said to the man, nor of how he behaved. Sleepiness really wasn’t something to underestimate. 

Wooyoung had literally set himself up for ruin when he agreed to going out with Choi San. Well, it technically wasn’t ‘going out’, but at the same time it technically was . . .? They were going out to the beach, to _hang out_ , so that San could show Wooyoung around the town he’d grown to love. 

And honestly, he’d wanted to visit the beach for some time. It wasn’t very far, but it was still a hassle to go. Going to the beach, one had to make plans. It wasn’t easy simply walking across town, past farms and property just to reach the shores of Namhae. 

Despite complaining about all of that, he couldn’t help but be reminded of how beautiful the place was. He’d been fortunate to live there for quite some time. And even though there wasn’t much to do, it was far more peaceful than Seoul ever was. Still, the town brought along a lot of sentimentality too. It reminded him of his own home in Ilsan. 

He sighed. Wooyoung was currently standing in front of his mirror, eyeing himself. He’d spent a majority of the hour trying to find something to wear, anything at that point, but everything seemed to be against him. He couldn’t find a single decent outfit. 

This was ridiculous. Because he was acting as if he was going on a _date_. This wasn’t a date. 

“You’re going on a date dressed like _that_?” Yunho complained. The tall dance teacher was on the bed, sprawled out on his tummy as he watched Wooyoung with a look of amusement. 

He would’ve glared at the man’s judging, had he not kind of agreed with it. Wooyoung was desperate. He liked San. He didn’t want to ruin what they had. 

Frustrated, he pouted, “I have no idea what to wear.” 

“I’ll pick an outfit for you,” Yunho told him, “You just have to listen to everything I tell you in regards to this date.” 

“It’s not a date—” Wooyoung tried to say. 

Yunho raised a brow, “Okay. Call it whatever you want but,” He waved a finger over Wooyoung’s attire, “We’re gonna have to get you emotionally ready too.” 

“Are you serious?” He turned from the teacher to look at himself in the mirror once more, pout deepening as he did so. 

Yunho wasn’t wrong. Wooyoung hadn’t dated in a while. He had no time for it, really. And like he’d said previously, this _wasn’t_ a date, no matter how many times Yunho said it. 

And he couldn’t just easily school Wooyoung on dating. His relationship with Mingi wasn’t going as smoothly either, surprisingly. Yunho had yet to actually admit his feelings out loud. 

But he chose not to say anything about it. He’d done his fair share of meddling in Yunho’s love life. Now it was time to focus on his _own_. 

He laughed as he bent to pick up a sheer shirt from the floor, raising it to his friend, “Would a netted shirt be too much?” 

Yunho’s eyes brightened at the idea, but then faded as Wooyoung tossed it at his face. It was unbelievable yet believable that his friend would agree to something so risqué. 

The tall dancer threw the shirt onto the bed beside him, grinning, “How about you save that for _after_?”

# ________

San shifted from one foot to the next, anxiously waiting for Wooyoung at the front of the house. He hoped he didn’t look _too_ strange as he wore whatever Mingi had set out for him in the morning. Luckily, he’d woken up first before Wooyoung. He simply felt too nervous to even face him, especially after their conversation last night. 

Truth be told, that had been the most intimate thing they’d done in a while, and it made him remember the reason as to why San wanted to talk with Wooyoung more thoroughly. 

His lifestyle had taken him all over the world, it had given him so many people to love, and it had given him the chance to do _what_ he loved. It did all of that, but it also allowed him to forget that he also needed to feel . . . this. If that made any sense. 

He ran his hands through his hair, nervous. Maybe he should’ve settled on something he usually wore, but _no_ , because apparently sleeveless shirts weren’t appropriate for ‘first dates’, according to Mingi. 

But this wasn’t a date technically . . .? 

San looked into the sunset from his position on the porch, half-mesmerized by how beautiful the orange day was, but also partly anxious to see Wooyoung again. 

He may or may not have avoided him all morning by spending his time with Mingi at the school—well, he _did_ , but it was totally something he needed to do in order to not be so goddamn nervous. Distractions were necessary. 

His parents weren’t of any help either. His mom especially had somehow heard about it all. He guessed Mingi might’ve spilled the secret. San wouldn’t have been surprised if the rapper had told his entire group about this outing. He was definitely going to get an earful from both his families once they returned. 

Agitated, he leaned against the front door, thinking that maybe it was getting too late to go to the beach. Once they arrived, it was probably going to be difficult to witness the ocean views. Still, the lights from the small town looked very beautiful against the black sea. He wondered too if Wooyoung had been to the pier yet—

“Ready?” He heard Wooyoung’s voice at his ear. 

When San turned, he paused momentarily. 

Wooyoung didn’t look directly at him. In fact, his eyes stayed on the horizon, on the setting sun and the layers of colors it cast. He looked . . . different. And when he meant ‘different’ San meant that Wooyoung still looked like the man he’d known for the past few weeks but— _different_. 

The teacher’s hair was wavy—no, it was _curly_ as it hugged around his ears and forehead. It made his brown hair look even lighter than what it usually was. 

Wooyoung glanced at him, appearing weary, “ . . . what?” 

San closed his opened mouth to cough into his fist. He’d been staring, too much. “Nothing, just—” 

_You look amazing._

Wooyoung shrugged after San gave up on trying to find the correct words to say, and instead jumped down from the porch and onto the street, stretching his arms above his head and smiling at how good the warm air felt around them. 

San only watched as he regarded what Wooyoung was wearing. A comfortable pink shirt and washed-out jeans. So much more casual than what Mingi had made him wear, which was a dark buttoned-up black shirt and black jeans. But, it did make his red highlights look nice. 

He gave up then to follow the teacher from behind. This look was exactly what reminded him when he saw Wooyoung. Bright, daring, and _fun_. 

For a long time San had been unaware of where they were going exactly, until Wooyoung turned around to meet his eyes, calling from a distance. “Where are we going first?” 

San eyed the way Wooyoung ran his fingers through his curly fringe, smile playing on his tinted lips. Truthfully, San felt a little overwhelmed—no, he felt extremely overwhelmed. 

He took a deep breath slowly, ignoring the way his ears burned as he stared on, “Anywhere you want to go, Wooyoung.”

# ________

The outskirts of town were very confusing to navigate through. But then again, if one had a local guide, navigation was much easier. What wasn’t easier though, was the fact that Wooyoung was totally ruining this ‘outing’. It wasn’t helping that San had been acting like such a gentleman in the first place. Wooyoung literally just wanted to reset the entire day. 

It also didn’t help that San looked good, like, really _really_ good. The idol had parted his hair halfway, revealing his forehead and sharp eyes. The heat was getting to him, surely, but at least the curly hair Yunho had given him was doing a good job at hiding his reddened ears. 

“I can’t believe I actually spilled my ice cream everywhere,” Wooyoung glared at the mess on the floor and then back to San, who, was currently wiping at Wooyoung’s shoulder, where, yes, a bird had dropped a ‘gift’ for him. “Also, a bird pooped on me. What else can go wrong?” 

“It’s actually good luck,” San said, sounding genuinely serious. “At least, that’s what my grandmother says.” 

“Well then, I guess I’m gonna need it if this continues.” He replied quietly. Thank goodness he’d had a shirt on underneath his original one. A white T-shirt that thankfully remained untouched and clean. 

The idol even went so far as to ask one of his older friends, a convenience store clerk, to hold onto the shirt until they got back. Wooyoung wasn’t embarrassed exactly. He was more frustrated than anything. This had to be the worst date—no, worst _outing_ he’d ever been on. 

And it wasn’t San’s fault. Wooyoung had just been too nervous to act like his usual self. Which was stupid because that wasn’t like him at all. 

He sighed tiredly, eyeing the mountains. They’d gone beyond whatever Wooyoung could recognize. The place was bigger than he thought, but at the same time it wasn’t exactly a location for tourists. Farmland covered a majority of everything, and wildlife always remained at the close edges of town. He believed Yunho hadn’t gone this far, not even to go to the beach. 

San knocked on his shoulder softly as they left behind the mess at the store, walking together again once Wooyoung felt more at ease with the whole situation. 

They’d left the house rather late, and so the Summer sun was beginning to set behind them. They could see their shadows before them as they walked on, content in the silence but also in the fact that they were finally _alone_. 

Wooyoung hadn’t noticed this before but, they were always surrounded by people. He loved it, though at times he searched for solitude in order to get his thoughts organized. That’s what he was doing so now, and he wondered if maybe San felt the same way. 

He also thought about how this was probably going to be one of the last times they would ever have alone time. San’s stay wasn’t very long to begin with, and also, there was really nothing keeping him there, except for his family. 

The rumor must’ve died down by now in Seoul. So did that mean he would go back sooner than he intended? Just as promised, San had kept his word on making sure he would prove his innocence. He was amiable, friendly, strict and hardworking—but above all else, he was honest in all of those things and in everything he did. Wooyoung also found that San wasn’t a good liar. 

For a second, he watched the idol, at the way he had his hands in his pockets, shoulder occasionally hitting Wooyoung’s as he pointed out certain facts about the place. Wooyoung felt somewhat guilty for not really listening. He was just too distracted by what was beside him. 

“And there’s the volleyball court where we used to practice.” San said, pointing to a small court that sat right next to a parking lot overlooking a rice field. 

“You played volleyball?” Wooyoung asked, bright. First, taekwondo and dancing, and now volleyball? He hadn’t known how active San was. 

San nodded and took his arm, taking a sharp corner away from the main street to enter a dirt road. “I was the libero.” 

Wooyoung scoffed at him and smiled. 

San appeared flustered, for once, “What?” 

“You’ve just done a lot,” Wooyoung felt their hands slip away as they continued to their destination. It was hot, but his hand felt cold as it left his. “That’s all.” 

“I was great at volleyball and taekwondo but—” He reminisced, smiling softly to himself. “I chose dancing, and singing.” 

Wooyoung didn’t think it was suitable for him to reply, thus he remained silent. Coming back to a place filled with so many memories, it must’ve been difficult. Sure he must have missed some of it, but it also probably reminded him of his life in Seoul. 

His heart raced at the idea, and for a moment he had to press a hand to his chest to calm himself. He could feel his pulse through his wrists, pace quickening when he remembered the reason as to why he accepted this invitation in the first place. 

“Sannie . . .” He called. It was almost a whisper. “I have something I want to—” 

San stopped in front of him, surprise on his face. “Did you . . . just . . .” 

Wooyoung froze. Had San found out about—? 

“You just called me ‘Sannie’ right now,” San cut through his thoughts like a knife. He appeared bewildered but . . . happy, for some reason? It was just a nickname. Wooyoung always called people by their nicknames. 

“ . . . yes?” Wooyoung had calmed for the moment. San hadn’t caught onto the confession waiting on his lips. Not yet, at least. “Is that not good—?” 

“No, it’s just,” San beamed at him. “It’s just I never thought you’d do it.” 

Wooyoung pouted. San was right in assuming that, but Wooyoung wasn’t a cold guy. He’d warmed up to San immediately after he’d decided to believe in him. He just hadn’t known he would fall for the man. That definitely hadn’t been on his agenda. 

He sighed, “Well, get used to it.” He pushed past San gently as he walked forward in the direction of the beach. San merely stayed standing behind him as he did, still shocked. 

The manner in which San was speaking to him was the same as any time before. No shift in attitude, no visible change in emotions—San was just being his usual self. 

Wooyoung had hoped he would catch a glimpse of something, of something that would reveal . . . anything. But as far as he could see, San didn’t feel the same way. Unless maybe he had liked Wooyoung all along, then that would’ve explained why his attitude never changed. 

He was most likely overanalyzing though. Was there any reason for San to like him? 

No. No there wasn’t.

# ________

They’d been out for hours, hours until it seemed the sunset had lost its patience and completely set before they could reach the shores of his hometown. 

It was slightly humid, thankfully, and the beach was windy, pushing gusts of icy wind against them as he made his way to the water’s edge. It was a beautiful night, with the stars glistening up above, shining as he bent his head back to stare at them, twinkling. 

For a good second he basked in the freedom the ocean provided. He could quite literally face away from his problems, turn his back on them, on the town and city, in order to actually _live_ in the moment. 

Wooyoung ran from him as soon as they hit the sand, arms spread and wallowing in the sharp breeze of the ocean air, eyes closed as the wind passed through his curled hair. He looked so at peace, more at peace than San had ever known him to be. 

This was the carefree Wooyoung he’d wanted to see for a long time. Those past few days he’d shown nothing but hesitance, but now, with just the two of them finally alone, he got to witness a side of Wooyoung he’d never known. 

The teacher raised his hands to the sky, turning to catch a glimpse at San, but not before sending a satisfied grin his direction. His profile was one of the most eye-catching things he’d ever seen. 

And despite what Wooyoung had said back then, about this outing being ruined by his misfortune, San wanted to tell him that no, he hadn’t ruined anything. In fact, Wooyoung was everything that he yearned for. 

“It’s beautiful . . .” Wooyoung said when San stood beside him, hands in his pockets so that he couldn’t be tempted to reach out to him. 

He looked at the young man next to him, eyeing the way his brown eyes caught onto the glare of the moon across the sea and the waves that continued to roll in, despite the harsh winds, the obstacles. “Yeah,” San replied, “You’re beautiful.” 

Wooyoung looked at him with a tilt of his head. The ocean sounds must’ve drowned out what San had said, “What did you say?” 

“Nothing.” He answered. Well, he had to confess somehow. But how? 

Wooyoung had abandoned their standing to bend down, taking off his shoes to dip his feet into the lukewarm waters. San did the same, but he lingered in the waves, waiting to say anything. 

It was a good thing they’d arrived at night. He loved the beach under a full moon, more so than in the day. Because afternoons meant swimmers and surfers, but evening was totally different. There was solitude in place of liveliness. 

After what felt like minutes had passed, Wooyoung left the water to dry his feet in the sand, spinning as he did so and looking as jovial as San hoped he would be. 

“It’s . . . it’s so nice here,” Wooyoung stepped further and further away from San, looking at everything in sight. The pier wasn’t too far, nor were the restaurants that were occasionally open in the daytime. Though as they traversed the sandy shores, they ignored every closed establishment. 

Exploring the beach at night was sort of frightening, but also fascinating. Somehow, the waves were much louder at night, and without clear visibility of the ocean in front of them, they grew cautious of the nearing tide. 

At one point he was growing colder as they paced through the sand, though he figured he liked it much more after remembering how hot it could get in the day. Unlike him, Wooyoung appeared fine, actually, he looked ecstatic to be exploring. 

Wooyoung stopped at his left, eyes focused on the place they’d left behind. It was then that San had a chance to watch the man’s silhouette against the backdrop of the lights in town. A hazy glow of purple and yellow wrapped itself around Wooyoung as he closed his eyes, tilting his head back to breathe in the crisp air. 

San had a lot on his mind, but this was enough to halt his thinking. It was now or never. It was highly possible he and Mingi would get a call to return to Seoul. This wasn’t a vacation technically, and thus he had to be wary of his time. The principal knew of this, and so did his parents. He didn’t know if Wooyoung was aware of it, though. 

“Do I have something on my face?” Wooyoung asked, running a hand through his curled bangs. “You look like you have something to say.” 

San stood there with his mouth open, searching for words. 

He had to keep in mind that, even though he liked Wooyoung, he couldn’t jeopardize the man’s life. San was an idol. Wooyoung was a dance teacher. The press would eat them alive. 

That hurt him immensely. It hurt him more so than the current rumor that was trying to ruin his career. It was a wake-up call, honestly. He liked Wooyoung _that_ much. 

“I do, Wooyoung.” He stepped up to the younger man, towering over him to look down into his eyes, drinking in the brown color he’d admired for days, weeks. “Will it be okay to tell you exactly what I’m thinking?” 

Now was a good time to do it. 

This was his chance. 

Wooyoung blinked once, and then twice, and then pursed his lips, eyes darting elsewhere. For a split second, he seemed nervous. San didn’t know why. “I—I guess . . .” 

San brought his hands from his pockets to lift Wooyoung’s chin up. He didn’t want to lose his gaze, “Are you sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Wooyoung said quietly. He made no indication of leaving his grip. He continued to stare on, as if he already knew what San was going to say. 

This wasn’t what he had anticipated. Though with his thoughts running a mile a minute, he couldn’t stop to properly analyze the situation. His fast heartbeat wasn’t helping either. 

He lowered his hands to his side, but not before Wooyoung took them. He looked concerned, “What’s wrong?” 

San found it difficult to reply, “Wooyoung—” 

Wooyoung waited, holding his hands lightly but securely. They were smaller than San’s, perfect as they folded atop his. “San . . .” 

“I want you to know that . . . I like you . . . a lot,” San finally, finally admitted. 

It was out. There was nothing to hide anymore. 

The man’s eyes widened at his statement, “I’m well aware that you like me, and of course Yunho and Yeosangie and—” 

“I’m in love with you, Wooyoung.” 

Silence fell on them as he said that. The waves obstructed his voice again, but this time it was quite obvious what he had told him. There was no way he didn’t hear those words. 

San stayed gazing at Wooyoung, at the way his expression of shock turned into confusion, and then into something unreadable. He didn’t regret saying it, especially not after seeing the red that had bloomed across the bridge of Wooyoung’s nose and cheeks. 

“B-But you . . .” Wooyoung’s eyes searched him, brows creasing in disbelief. “You don’t _really_ love me—” 

“I’ve loved you ever since you tried to kick me out of my own bedroom,” San told him. Before, it had seemed so hard to confess, but now he just couldn’t help it. “Please believe me.” 

Despite the look of doubtfulness on his face, Wooyoung had kept their hands interlocked the entire time. It must’ve meant something. 

He hoped it meant something.

# ________

San was asking Wooyoung to believe in him again . . . and Wooyoung couldn’t say no this time. Not again, not after everything they’d gone through to be friends. 

He held onto San’s hands. He couldn’t let go. It felt like he’d lose him if he let go. “I think you should reconsider.” 

“I don’t want to.” San took his hands instead, gripping them to bring Wooyoung closer, close enough to mimic the Fake Love move they’d done the previous day. “I want you.” 

Wooyoung lost his breath. 

_Damn, what do I say to that?_

He shut his eyes, to keep the image of San at bay, but as he felt familiar fingers at his jaw, he opened them. San was holding his face gingerly, as if Wooyoung was made of glass. 

“I believe you.” Wooyoung observed. 

San nodded, “Good.” 

He felt dizzy. And even though he knew he was already blushing from the conversation, he hoped not all of his feelings were clearly written on his face. 

This was overwhelming. His heart couldn’t calm down, not even when San released him slightly to breathe. He probably wanted an answer from Wooyoung. But since he hadn’t expected this, he didn’t have any answer to give. 

That was when an idea hit him. 

Words weren’t always the best way to reveal secrets. 

“San . . .” Wooyoung interlocked their fingers in one hand, but he slipped another arm around San’s shoulder gradually, taking his time to adjust to their different heights. This was like dancing. He had to remind himself that it was like dancing, otherwise he couldn’t gain the courage to continue. 

This was what he wanted. He couldn't let it slip away. 

San followed after he noticed what Wooyoung was trying to do. His arm slipped naturally to Wooyoung’s waist, holding him steady as their bodies grew flush together. 

He still couldn’t really believe in what San had said. He figured that having a crush confess to you would be unbelievable anyway. He also came to the conclusion that he’d been too blind to even notice. He’d done it before, once, with Choi San. 

“What’s your answer, Wooyoung?” San questioned at his ear. 

Wooyoung rested his head against San’s shoulder, taking in the feel of everything, because in that moment, his words were touching all the right places . . . 

He closed his eyes again, “San—”

# ________

San was holding onto Wooyoung tightly. 

Everything was going smoothly, much more smoothly than he imagined. Wooyoung hadn’t answered him, but he found he didn’t need to. San could be patient if he had to. If Wooyoung needed time to think over this then—

His phone rang loudly from his front pocket, disrupting them immediately. 

Wooyoung let go of him instantly, taking a few steps back whilst San reached into his pocket, bringing out his glowing device to read the caller ID. The loud ringer had scared them both. 

At first he assumed it was going to be Mingi, but then as his eyes adjusted to the name, he froze. It wasn’t his friend, and it wasn’t his parents either. 

“ . . . the CEO.” San said under his breath. He couldn’t understand why. 

Wooyoung pushed the device to his ear, urging him to pick up the call, “Sannie, answer it.” 

“Wooyoung—” He started. 

“I know it’s going to be important.” Wooyoung said, half-pleading. “I just want what’s best for you, San.” 

San didn’t know what to say. 

His peace had been taken away in an instant.

# ________

Wooyoung felt like his heart was sinking. Of course their moment wasn’t going to last. Of course there was going to be something to disrupt his confesion. Their love lives seemed to be doomed from the start. 

San had only answered the phone when Wooyoung tapped the green pick-up button himself. If he hadn’t done that, San would’ve missed the call. 

It felt like a dream when he watched San on the phone, keeping his attention at the way his expressions shifted from concern to confusion. It was a good sort of confusion though, like he couldn’t believe what was being told on the other end of the line. 

When he was done, he looked in the direction of the ocean, and then to Wooyoung, wordless. 

_You’re leaving, San._

“Wooyoung—” He tried to say. 

But Wooyoung raised a hand to silence him. He’d only spent three minutes on the phone. It had felt like an eternity. “I know.” 

San dropped the phone into the sand as he brought Wooyoung close, wrapping his arms around him to give him a tight hug. Wooyoung nestled his head in the crook of San’s neck, hands tracing his back softly. 

They were quiet for some time, though when San let go to stare at him, Wooyoung let a sigh escape from his lips. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. Just—” San cupped his face, “Just promise me that you’ll give me an answer.” 

Wooyoung felt conflicted, “When?” 

“Next weekend.” San brushed his thumb along Wooyoung’s jaw. He looked so desperate. Wooyoung wanted to know what San had said during that phone conversation. What was making him so scared? “I’m going to be back next weekend.” 

_Will you?_

Wooyoung nodded in response, ignoring his own doubts. 

He had to believe in San. Just like before when he’d believed San wasn’t a part of that ridiculous rumor, and also like when he believed in his confession just now. This was all going too fast for him anyway. He needed time to collect his thoughts. San must’ve seen that in him. 

The idol released his hold on Wooyoung then, but kept his gaze fixed on him, to make sure that he was okay. He wasn’t, but Wooyoung would never tell him that. 

“I’ll wait for you, Sannie.” 

That was exactly what he did. He waited and waited for so long—

It hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *posts this chapter and runs away immediately* I'M SORRY 
> 
>    
> *comments r dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls lmk if there r any mistakes <3  
> *[twitter](https://twitter.com/halahalamp3)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *part (1/2) double update today!! :)

Things had been going well. 

If that phone call hadn’t disrupted them then . . . Mingi would’ve had the chance to really tell Yunho how he felt. He’d never gotten so angry over a simple call in a while. But in this case, the timing was so bad, it seemed almost timed. 

They’d been dancing for hours whilst San and Wooyoung were out, having their ‘date’. Well, San hadn’t named it that, though it was clear how much it was one. It was good progress, and hopefully they would reveal their true feelings _finally_. It was about time. 

Now Mingi had to gain the courage to do the same as well. It was difficult though, because a short time back, he had come to the conclusion that Yunho biased Seonghwa. It made sense, truthfully, but it didn’t sit well with him. 

And he couldn’t jump to conclusions either. He just had to be clear about how he felt, for the sake of their good friendship. Even if Yunho didn’t feel the same way, Mingi knew he longed to remain friends . . . if that was what Yunho wanted, of course. 

Damn, this was really eating at him, especially as the blaring music from the speakers continued to play whatever was on their playlist. It was hot, it usually was, but dance rooms always seemed to never get cool, no matter what. 

Yunho had helped him tremendously with the dance routine for their new single. They had to drop it as soon as they arrived back in Seoul, but before that, it was essential that his members go over the steps with Mingi, to make sure all was well. 

There was much work to be done for a comeback, but in the end he felt as if he’d gotten the help he needed. Honestly, he wanted to convince Yunho to work at KQ, so that he could entrust him with future dance endeavors—though that was only a dream. 

Yunho stopped the music and stood to lean against the dance room mirror railing, wiping at his brow. As soon as he caught Mingi watching him, he rested his head back and smiled, satisfied with the work they’d done. It gave Mingi an overwhelming feeling of adrenaline, like he couldn’t wait to tell the one in front of him that he . . . 

Mingi stood up from his position on the floor, crossing the dance room to stand determinedly at Yunho’s side, holding the railing as well to give him height. “Yunho—” 

“Should we go over another part of the routine?” Yunho hadn’t meant to cut him off. In fact, the man was always so full of energy, Mingi could hardly keep up at times. “I think there are a few steps—” 

As much as Mingi wanted to discuss the details of the comeback dance, he also wanted to talk about what was currently sitting on his tongue. 

He had to say it, now or never. 

Mingi watched the floor as Yunho continued to point out significant things in the choreo. His voice had faded as he went on, though it still made him nervous somehow. This wasn’t the first time he’d gone out with someone. Nor was it the first time he’d confessed. He could do this. 

“Yunho,” He said quietly. 

Surprisingly, Yunho paused. “Yes?” 

“San and Wooyoung are on a date right now . . . correct?” He asked. He wasn’t sure why he started it off with that, but it was something, at least. 

The dancer raised a confused brow, “ . . . yes?” 

Mingi exhaled, “Well, I’ve been thinking . . .” He turned away from the man, searching for words anywhere. “If they could . . . then I could . . .” 

Damn, it was easier writing lyrics than actually confessing to someone. In order to get things done, he needed to get to the point. He couldn’t let it all go to ruin. 

Yunho tugged at his sleeve, urging him to continue. Mingi had been silent for a solid minute, flustered at the situation, “You could . . .?” 

Mingi abandoned his spot beside the dancer and instead stood in front of him, hands clasping the railing on either side of Yunho, caging him in. He hadn’t meant for it to be a kabedon moment, but this was how things were going so— 

“Yunho.” He said, voice an octave lower than usual. “I know Seonghwa’s your favorite but—” 

Yunho was surprised, clearly, but at the mention of Seonghwa, he shook his head, “He’s . . . not my favorite.” 

“He’s not?” Mingi must’ve looked elated. 

“Who told you that?” Yunho’s hands brushed against Mingi’s, warm. He made no indication of pulling them away. 

“I—” Now it was Mingi’s turn to be shocked. He had seriously thought it was Seonghwa who was Yunho’s bias. “I just . . .” 

_I just assumed._

Yunho looked on at him, reading his face. They were closer than he anticipated, but—it was to be expected. He was literally holding him against the dance room mirror. 

This was still a confession though! He had to spill his secret before anything could disrupt them. “Yunho, I . . . I have a confession.” 

Yunho blinked once, and then twice, and then he tilted his head, black hair falling into his eyes. Mingi, again, couldn’t say anything. 

“What is it?” 

“I think . . . I think I’m in love—” 

His phone began to chime as soon as the word ‘love’ escaped his lips. Yunho hadn’t heard him. He wouldn’t hear him for a long time, because as soon as Mingi jumped back to look at the caller ID, he lost his train of thought, of confessing, and of untold secrets. 

Yunho stared at the phone in his hands, and then to Mingi, registering what was going on. It was evident in the way Mingi was gripping his phone. 

_The CEO . . ._

But why would he be calling? Well, why else would he call? It was getting late. Very, very late. San and Wooyoung should’ve been at the beach, or on their way back. If he was calling Mingi, then—he must’ve called San first. 

The ringer played on as Yunho took the phone and urged him to answer, “Mingi, what’s wrong?” 

“I had something I needed to tell you—” He replied truthfully. 

Yunho shook his head once more, “No, Mingi. Your face says that this is really important.” 

It was. Yunho was right. He couldn’t miss a phone call from his CEO, especially not when there was a rumor about one of his group members. 

“You’re right . . .” He eventually said. 

And as he lifted the device to swipe open the call, he regarded the way Yunho looked concerned for him. It was hard to deny such an expression. He _had_ to answer the call. 

At that moment, he felt a hand reach out to his, fingers entwining naturally, perfectly. They were Yunho’s. “It’s okay,” He said silently, “You can tell me the next time you see me.” 

Mingi gazed at him, feeling guilty. He was silent on the phone, even as his CEO began to speak. 

In reality, he had no idea when he would be able to see Yunho again.

# ________

The trip back was quieter than they’d ever been. 

It must have been nearing 4 in the morning as he switched the left blinker on to turn. It felt strange, driving. He hadn’t done that in weeks. Back in his hometown it was normal to walk around everywhere. He’d developed and gotten used to that exercise, but returning to the city meant he’d adopt his old habits again. 

They passed the blur of buildings silently, watching the road before them as the hours turned from dark to grey, lighting up the sky in a cool blue that they were all too familiar with. The early sunrise of a new day, without sleep, and without a chance to properly think. 

San kept a firm grip on the steering wheel as Mingi tapped on his phone in the passenger seat. They’d just gotten off the phone with their manager. Apparently, something had been revealed by Dispatch while they were away. Therefore it was important for them to return to Seoul at once. 

He could only guess as to what was going on. San already felt a weight lift from his shoulders as their CEO had assured him all was well now. Of course he felt relieved that news was beginning to clear up, but at the same time he couldn’t forget what he had left behind at home. 

It was frustrating that this news was forced upon him. He had not wanted to leave Wooyoung at all, even though the teacher had been adamant about his departure. San wasn’t sure if it was because Wooyoung just didn’t want to see him anymore, or if maybe . . . 

He shook his head as he stared out at the familiar road. They were almost back, but they still needed an hour until they arrived. He had to stay awake, at all costs he couldn’t give in to sleep. As soon they reached their company, he knew Hongjoong and the rest of his members would be waiting to begin. 

Most likely there would be a meeting with the CEO and their managers. After that, his lawyer would arrive, and then Dispatch would send over their own people to settle the matters of this scandal. He hadn’t heard of all the details, but honestly, he didn’t exactly want to. 

He just wanted this to blow over so that he could go back home, back to the person he wanted to see the most. He knew Wooyoung needed time though. He’d seemed all too eager to let San go. San only hoped he hadn’t been pushed away too far, unless that was what Wooyoung wanted. He had to respect the man’s wishes. 

Mingi sighed suddenly as he settled the phone in the cup holder between them. The rapper appeared more tired than San, which was surprising because San had been literally walking across his town only a few hours ago. 

San lowered the already quiet radio, “Almost there.” 

His friend looked out the window. His eyes were swollen with lack of sleep, and something else. “Yeah . . .” 

After a short time of more silence, he eventually understood what was ailing his friend. San had forgotten that he wasn’t the only one who had left someone behind. 

_Yunho_. 

It was then that San felt bad. Deeply, deeply bad. From the beginning, since the scandal erupted, it had been his fault. It had taken a toll on his members, his company, his _fans_. He hated how much trouble one small lie could make. 

He couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for Mingi to leave his good friend behind. They were certainly going to be gone for days, and maybe even weeks. He’d promised Wooyoung he would return next weekend but—could he really keep that promise? 

He had to. His parent’s anniversary party was occurring around that time. He couldn’t miss it. And he didn’t have to ask Ming about it either. He knew his friend would leap at the next opportunity to return. They just needed to be patient. 

He gripped Mingi’s shoulder, squeezing it, “I’m sorry.” 

Mingi didn’t bother to turn in his direction. He simply mumbled a, “What are you sorry for?” 

“For everything.” He blatantly stated. The adrenaline from confessing earlier was still there, keeping him awake even though he should’ve been asleep. “This rumor’s been fucking everything up—” 

“The job comes with it’s perks.” Mingi sent him a faint smile. He looked defeated but, that was to be expected. “You’re not at fault here, San.” 

San returned his eyes to the road as his friend said that. His words usually hit him hard. They were reassuring. But nothing could really reassure him until the matter was settled. Things had to get done before he could move forward. 

If not, then he would never see Wooyoung again. San didn’t want to risk hurting anyone anymore. 

“Yeah.” He said, more to himself. 

He had to keep in mind that he was to blame, but at the same time he wasn’t. He deserved better than this. He deserved to be happy, finally. 

But patience would make that a lot harder to achieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *part (1/2) :)  
> *slow . . . burn . . . 
> 
> *comments r dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls lmk if there r any mistakes <3  
> *[twitter](https://twitter.com/halahalamp3)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *part (2/2) part 1 is the previous new chapter :) double update today <3

Saturday night and they were lounging, quiet besides the soft murmur of the radio on the open windowsill, inviting in a crisp breeze that ruffled his hair. 

It was a cool night, even though the day had been sweltering. The past few days in fact, had all been much too hot for his taste. But by now he should’ve gotten used to it. Two years, nearly reaching three, and he hadn’t adjusted to the beachy weather at all. 

He closed his eyes and relaxed in the calm atmosphere, forgetting the memories that’d haunted him for days. Almost a week had gone by since that little incident happened. The one on the beach. 

Wooyoung had tried to clear it from his mind but—it had proved too difficult to dispel it. Such a momentous memory wasn’t so easy to get rid of. He knew he shouldn’t have remained hopeful, because in the end things hadn’t gone his way. 

He was regretful, yes, very much so, but at the same time he hadn’t thought of a better reaction than the one he’d displayed that day. He was shocked, obviously, he hadn’t anticipated such a confession from Choi San—

At the mere mention of his name, he opened his eyes, gaze traveling to the popcorn ceiling of the tiny apartment his friends were currently in. It wasn’t good to dwell, but there wasn’t anything else to do. 

He liked someone, very, very much, and all he wanted to do was see him. To check if he really _did_ like Wooyoung back, or if it was all a dream he’d dreamt whilst sleeping. 

That was another thing that had irked him. He’d hoped and prayed to have the bed all to himself again for weeks, and yet the absence of Choi San had taken a toll on him. There was no longer anyone there to cling onto as he slept, no one to accidentally wake up in the middle of the night—no one to greet in the morning. 

He didn't realize it before, but Wooyoung hadn’t known how much this emptiness would affect him. He at least should’ve kissed him. Now it was too late. Because San was never going to come back. 

For what must’ve been the thirtieth time, he sighed. To his right and sitting on the floor, Yunho sighed as well, though he hadn’t meant to do it so precisely after Wooyoung’s. 

All it took to know what was ailing the dancer at that moment was a quick look at his face. His eyes hadn’t ceased to look tired, and they’d stayed somewhat red as the days passed, as if he’d done nothing but try to hold back tears that desperately wanted to escape. 

And Yunho was always the last person to say that he needed to cry. The man never admitted to shedding a tear. Not even once in his life. 

“Yunho . . .” He began. He wanted some way to console his friend, but he didn’t even know how to console _himself_ first. The absence of the two idols had really taken a toll on them both. 

As if reading his mind, Yunho shook his head, fringe hiding his eyes, “Wooyoungie.” 

Wooyoung leaned forward on the couch to look over Yunho’s shoulder. His friend had been scrolling through his phone, reading articles. It was something he did often, though this time it was evident he was searching for something in particular. 

He inhaled sharply when a familiar group name came onto the screen, revealing a photo of the members lined up on a red carpet, waving to the cameras with stiff smiles. 

_Ateez_. 

Yunho brought the phone up so that Wooyoung could witness the image too. It wasn’t necessary. “Ateez have come out with an official statement in regards to the rumor of Choi San and girl group member . . .” His friend read from the article, voice hoarse as they waited to see what was to come next in the text. “Both companies have officially stated that neither party was involved with one another . . .” 

Yeosang, who’d been in the kitchen pouring soju for them, popped his head from the corner to point at him with an empty bottle, “Told you.” 

Yunho continued on, “Choi San is innocent of all rumors against him, but more investigations are to take place on why the scandal had developed in the first place—” 

“He’s innocent.” Wooyoung said, so quietly he was surprised his friends had heard him. 

Yunho held his hand, chin on the sofa armrest. A soft, reassuring smile grew on his friend’s lips, indicating to Wooyoung that now all was almost well. 

If only he had the same optimism. Wooyoung knew how much Mingi liked Yunho. The idol would come back and confess his feelings soon enough but—what would happen to Wooyoung? 

Before San left, he asked Wooyoung to believe in him. Well, he was trying his hardest to do so. Though as the days continued to pass, and as the date for their weekend loomed, he knew that it was only going to get harder. 

“His name is cleared,” Wooyoung said, he was relieved, really. He’d been so scared, so anxious to see if that phone call back then was important. 

It was. And now San had the freedom to return to his career, or maybe even begin his mandatory military service, or maybe settle down . . . 

“Now he’s got to come back this weekend,” Yeosang said absentmindedly. He was leaning on the kitchen counter, drying off a wine glass. “If he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass.” 

“They’re . . . probably busy right now,” Yunho concluded. It sounded more like he was convincing himself that they’d been gone so long for a good reason. He admired the patience in his friends, but Wooyoung wasn’t a very patient person to begin with. 

He looked out the window, at the moon that glowed visibly from behind the billowing curtain. He hadn’t told his friends exactly what had happened. Now was probably the best time to do that. 

Yunho’s hand slipped away but he took it back, gripping it firmly, “We should get ready to see them this weekend, then.” Wooyoung replied. 

He glanced at Yeosang for a second and found that the man had already been looking at him with a smug smile. Oh, he knew exactly what Wooyoung was thinking. 

“In the meantime,” He said, “Let’s drink.”

# ________

All he could do now was wait. It felt unfathomable, yes, but he constantly reminded himself that this wasn’t forever. He would go back home, he would see his parents and grandparents and friends, and he would see once and for all if Wooyoung liked him back. 

Of course that was his ideal. He wanted their feelings to be mutual, though if the man didn’t feel the same way, then it was a losing game for San. He wasn’t sure, but since it’d been a long while since he’d felt this way, he must have forgotten what it was like to actually try and make someone fall in love. 

Could he do that? Well, no, but it was worth a try. 

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, swaying on his heels. The flash from the cameras was sort of blinding him, but there was technically no place to go inside the tiny studio. The place was no wider than the practice room back at KQ, with brick walls and a very high ceiling that allowed in a considerable amount of light. 

Mingi was sitting at a picnic table to his left, writing down a few questions for the magazine their group was going to be featured in. _Dazed_. 

The tall rapper ran his fingers through his now dark hair. He’d dyed it immediately upon arrival. San as well, was forced to bleach his hair the moment he set foot in KQ. Now he was completely blonde. 

Tiredly, he sat against the table, watching as their leader Hongjoong posed for the camera. He’d appeared more at ease now that San and Mingi were back. The scandal too, had blown over by that time. San was happy to have gotten rid of the stress on his member. To be truthful, he’d been worrying over Hongjoong for a long time. 

Mingi tugged at his collar, biceps revealed from his sleeveless black shirt. He’d practiced more than enough back in the school, he was more tan and toner than when they’d first left. Though that wasn’t all that had changed in Mingi. 

The younger always was a lively person, and very friendly towards other artists too. It was no surprise that he’d gotten along _very_ well with Yunho. San just felt guilty that Mingi looked so crestfallen at their departure. There had to be some way to make it up to him. It was San’s fault in the first place. 

Mingi exhaled, closing his eyes to rid the obnxious brightness of the studio. “When will this be over?” 

San shrugged. He brought the piece of paper Mingi had been working on and nearly laughed when he read the answers to the questionnaire. “We’ll be done in a few hours—Mingi,” 

“What?” His friend pouted at him. 

“You can’t write about people other than yourself,” San held the paper up. Most of the answers were in regards to Yunho. “Yunho won’t appreciate being bombarded by the press.” 

Mingi scowled at him for a second before giving up entirely. “I just—I haven’t even found a birthday gift for him yet, and we’re seeing them this weekend—” 

“Do you have to worry so much?” He shook his head at the man, disbelief on his features. “Just ask him when you see him. You can literally get him anything he wants.” 

Mingi didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He understood what San was trying to say. It was troublesome, having to admit that they did something wrong. They left behind the people they cared about, and now it was kicking them in the ass. 

They would have to suffer. 

He returned a scowl of his own when Mingi hooked a finger through the netted white shirt San was wearing for the photoshoot. All members of _Ateez_ were without sleeves. It was a good thing, considering how hot it could get in Seoul. 

“I miss him.” Mingi murmured. 

San was taken aback by his words. He shouldn’t have been, but he was. 

He bit his lip and gave the man time to fall silent again. “Yeah, I know.” 

_Me too_.

# ________

Hongjoong sat in front of him when Mingi left them both to begin his photo session with the photographer. San had already gone to take his pictures, and so the young rapper was last. 

From afar he could hear the distant bickering of Jongho and Seonghwa near the clothing rack, reminding San of the life he’d left behind when he returned to his old hometown. This, this right now was what he’d known for years. It was amazing what one trip could do—no, it was amazing what one person could do to make him reminisce in such a way. 

His leader sat forward, hands folded together in the usual way that most likely indicated he wanted to talk. San knew this conversation would happen sooner or later. 

“So you went ahead and followed my advice.” Hongjoong said, sounding as relaxed and pleased as ever. 

San looked up at him in confusion, “. . . what?” 

The leader smiled to himself, lips pulling into a grin, “My suggestion about settling down with someone.” 

“I—I never said anything—” He tried to explain. 

Hongjoong eyed Mingi, which meant that the rapper probably spilled the tea on everything. Did Jongho and Seonghwa know about Wooyoung as well? 

When Hongjoong didn’t say anything, San continued with, “Ah . . . so you know . . .” 

“I’m kind of good at knowing what’s going on in my team.” He informed san. He was right. As the leader of their group, he’d grown to be quite amazing in everything. “I also want what’s best for all of you.” Hongjoong’s eyes wavered to another side of the room, but then his gaze flickered back to San, “And me, of course.” 

San released the nerves in his chest by breathing out any anxiety he’d been bottling in. Because in his career, holding a secret that involved love was always a matter to never take lightly. “Hyung, I—” 

_I fell for someone I shouldn’t have._

No, no that was wrong. He had the right to love who he wanted. “Hyung, I have to go back and see him—” 

“I know.” 

“I have to tell him again that I—” San paused there. If he was correct, then Hongjoong had said something along the lines of ‘I know’. He squinted at his leader, to see if maybe it’d been his imagination. 

It wasn’t. 

“I know, Sannie.” Hongjoong clasped a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake from his surprise at such a response. “Did you think I would scold you for falling in love with someone?” 

_I don’t know_. 

He must’ve read San’s mind, because he gave him a look of subtle disappointment. “Hey, I know I’m strict but—” 

San took his hand and gripped it. This was why he held so much respect for the leader in front of him. “No, hyung, I just—” He thought over his words, mind running back to the man who was currently in San’s hometown, waiting for him to return. San had to keep his promise. He had to go back sooner than later. “I just really want this.” 

Hongjoong nodded. His eyes were soft, gentle, as they gazed at him proudly. “Then what are you still doing here, Sannie?” 

San was unaware of how to reply. He was right, actually. This photoshoot was the only thing planned in their schedule. The lawyers needed to speak with him, yes, but other than that, there was nothing much to entice him to stay in Seoul. 

He just wanted to see Wooyoung. He wanted to return to his _home_. 

Another hand grabbed his shoulder, but this time it was Mingi’s. The tall man raised a brow at them both, finished with his photo session. “What happened?” 

“You too, Mingi.” Hongjoong tapped at his watch sternly. “In the next five minutes, I want you two out of here.” 

“D-Did we do something—?” Mingi was thoroughly perplexed as to why Hongjoong wanted them out of his sight. San had to stop himself from laughing. 

“Yeah.” San responded, rising from the table in an instant. “We _did_ do something.” 

Mingi looked from Hongjoong to San, still bewildered, “What?” 

San grabbed Mingi’s hand, pulling him in the direction of the door. Without so much as a last glance, he took them both away from Hongjoong’s presence and into the beaming sunlight outside in the parking lot. 

Their manager was still inside, discussing matters with Seonghwa and the photographer. It was the perfect chance to escape. 

Mingi stopped in his tracks, “Are we going somewhere—?” 

“Namhae.” He said, arriving at their manager’s van. As quietly as he could, he swung open the door and checked the ignition. The keys were hanging there, as if someone had forgotten about them. It was a locked lot anyway. No need to worry over someone stealing the car. 

It was then that his friend understood what was happening. Quickly, the taller man yanked his hand away from San to run around the car and into the passenger seat. San was way ahead of him as he sat in the front seat and buckled his seatbelt, foot on the gas. 

“Fuck, we’re really leaving _now_?” Mingi said, staring down at their appearance, photoshoot makeup, clothes and all. Rather than a question, it sounded more like a demand. The tone in his voice was pleading, almost. Mingi had someone he wanted to see desperately. 

San didn’t hesitate to answer him. 

“Yeah.” He turned the keys, starting the car. “We’re going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *part (2/2) :)  
> *i don't know what to say except HURRY UP SANNIE
> 
>  
> 
> *comments r dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls lmk if there r any mistakes <3  
> *[twitter](https://twitter.com/halahalamp3)


	18. Chapter 18

They arrived as soon as sunset was beginning to reach them. The sky looked nearly purple, almost pink, and the clouds drifted slowly above their heads, indicating to them that nothing had changed since they’d left. It was still his small, quiet hometown, with the crisp smell of forest and beach wafting through the air, and familiar sights he’d seen one too many times. 

He closed the door behind him, keys dangling from his fingers. Admittedly, he sped down the highway in order to get back. It nearly gave Mingi a heart attack. San didn’t want to know what their manager was going to do when he found out that they hijacked the car. Well, Hongjoong would probably cover for them in their absence. 

San had more important things to take into account. The guy he was in love with was currently in this town, and he was more than anxious to begin looking for him so that he could finally receive an answer to his question. 

_Do you like me?_

He hoped the answer was yes. Damn, but if it wasn’t, then what? Would he return back to Seoul without Mingi? Or would he stay? 

His friend slammed the car door and bent forward, glaring at San through the fringe of his brown hair. The way San had been driving was enough to make anyone feel car sick. He was surprised they hadn’t gotten pulled over by police on the way there. 

Mingi wagged a finger at him, searching for his breath, “Remind me to never let you drive.” 

San slipped the keys into his friend’s awaiting hand. He agreed. It wasn’t like he was a bad driver, but it would’ve been a good idea if someone else had driven. Hongjoong, for instance, was the calmest under stressful situations. 

“That’ll be the last time.” He assured the younger man. 

Mingi stood up then, back against the black car. They literally left the photoshoot without taking anything. No luggage, no water; cellphones, yes, but it was still pretty reckless of them to ditch their schedules. 

“Where do you think everyone is right now?” Mingi wiped his brow. The air conditioning in the car and photo studio had made them momentarily forget the humidity of the town. They were both sweating, and even though their hair had been gelled by their stylists for the shoot, they practically looked as if they’d just gone for a swim. Maybe a shower was best before they met anyone. 

But then again, he wanted to see Wooyoung _now_. He didn’t care about appearances, he only desired to finally get things straightened out. 

San placed his hands on his hips, surveying the tiny town. From where they stood he could see the top of the school, the windows that were closed shut and dark. No one was probably in there. 

His house was nearby, just around the corner, but he knew his parents would hold him up if he met them first. He’d left so suddenly a week ago, he must’ve worried them. And he had to keep his mom and dad updated on the scandal. He’d already told his grandparents that everything had been settled. 

“We should split up.” San suggested. 

Mingi sighed. He looked stiff, nervous. San had grown used to seeing Mingi so confident in their career, he’d nearly forgotten this other side of him. It was both fun and insightful to behold. 

“Where will you go first?” Mingi questioned. 

San eyed the end of the street, watching the cherry blossoms fall. He had no idea where to begin, but he knew he had to start somewhere. “I’ll go to the park,” He said, “Where are you going?” 

“The dance room.” He replied determinedly. 

San could do nothing but nod. An expression of firm resolution was on the man’s face. It was cute. “Then . . . good luck.” 

Mingi sent him a faint smile, “Good luck.”

# ________

It was starting to get cooler, thank goodness. 

The summer temperature hadn’t relented at all, and what with finals coming up in his class, everyone was beginning to grow antsy and irritated. Well, it was always around this time of year that people craved for vacation to begin. Yunho was waiting for it as well, but—he’d been thinking about something beyond. 

Would he stay another year? Another term? It wasn’t like there was anything waiting for him in Seoul, and he loved teaching kids. But at the same time he had to consider what his family wanted as well. He hadn’t seen his parents in a good few months, mostly because he knew his mom would pester him about settling down. 

No doubt she wanted him to be happy, though he still had a long way to go. He was only 28. Plus, he didn’t exactly have anyone in particular at the moment . . . 

He looked down at his shoes, pondering. Currently, he was sitting in the park outside of his apartment, waiting for Wooyoung to arrive. They were supposed to meet ten minutes ago, but when Wooyoung was in the dance room, it usually took him twenty minutes to leave. And honestly, he wanted the solitude to think. 

For days he hadn’t managed to organize his thoughts, because they always led back to the day when Mingi had received that phone call and left. The look on his face was enough for Yunho to understand that it was incredibly important. He couldn’t be selfish. He had to let the man go, so that he could return to his family, his group. 

From the headlines he’d read, it was clear the scandal had been properly taken care of. San was innocent, as he always was, but this time the public actually believed him. This was a chance for _Ateez_ to come together as the world famous group they grew to be. Mingi could continue with his career. And Yunho could return to his own. 

This wasn’t what he wanted, truthfully. The thoughts of being selfless were all lies. What he wanted, in reality, was to confess to Mingi. 

Yunho sat back, running his fingers through his hair, mind running a mile a minute. This was bad. He was falling too fast for this guy. 

“Oh,” A familiar voice said. 

Yunho turned around so quickly, his neck grew sore. 

It was San. 

“San?” He sounded more surprised than he felt. In all actuality, he was relieved. “What are you doing here?” 

The idol fidgeted where he stood, hands in his pockets and looking as nervous as ever. He must’ve been expecting Wooyoung, but instead he found Yunho. So did that mean Mingi was searching for . . . 

“Now that I’m here,” San responded, “Can I talk to you . . . about Wooyoungie?” 

_Wooyoungie_. 

Yunho replaced the shocked expression on his face and instead stayed neutral, even though the mere mention of the nickname made him want to grin. “What would you like to know?” 

The idol pursed his lips, contemplating. After a moment, he sat beside Yunho on the park bench, shoes kicking the ground. 

First off, the man looked as if he’d just gotten off a music show, or maybe even a photo shoot. His hair had been bleached, and it looked wet, but maybe that was just hair gel? Also, that netted shirt . . . 

Yunho tried to imagine what Mingi was wearing, but as soon as he imagined it, he stopped himself. His heart had already been hammering in his chest at the thought of Mingi being back. 

“First . . .” He turned to the idol, searching his face, “Is . . . is Mingi . . . here?” 

The crease in San’s brows disappeared when Yunho asked him that. He must have known how much Yunho wanted to see Mingi. “He’s looking for you, actually.” 

“He is—?” Yunho wanted to get up, to leave and search for him but, San wanted to talk. He had to let the man know what was going on. Wooyoung was stubborn, incredibly so. Thus he needed to inform San that Wooyoung did want to see him too. He couldn’t let San leave without teling him at least that. “But . . . what did you want me to tell you? About Wooyoung?” 

San averted his eyes to the cherry blossom road, “Does he like anyone?” 

_Oh fuck._

“H-He _does_ like someone—” Yunho started. 

San cut him off, “Is it someone we know?” 

Yunho raised a hand up, slowing him down, “Yes. It’s someone we know.” 

The idol looked down, brows creasing once again. Maybe he should’ve made it more clear that the person they were talking about was Choi San. But then that would’ve revealed everything. He couldn’t do that to Wooyoung. 

It was difficult though, because his mind was racing at the sudden presence of San, and of course at the fact that Mingi was there too. He wanted to see him, he wanted to see Mingi so badly. 

Yunho continued, “You should ask him yourself, San.” 

San listened intently to his words. 

The duality he’d seen on stage was present at the moment. Before, San was cheery, very sociable and warm. Though with the makeup and bleached hair, along with that fierce look in his eyes as he thought of Wooyoung, Yunho was in awe. 

It was clear how much San cared about Wooyoung. One only needed to watch him in order to know. It was ridiculous, honestly, how obvious San was about it all. 

“I have to talk to him anyway.” San concluded, standing up. He was smiling at Yunho, grateful for the feedback. “And Mingi mentioned that he needs to talk to you.” 

The name floated in the air between them. Yunho grew stiff when he thought of what they would talk about. That day, it had almost seemed like Mingi was going to confess. 

But that was probably just wishful thinking. 

Yunho stood up too, “Then . . . I’ll find him.” 

“And I’ll find Wooyoung.” San said. 

“No need,” Yunho jutted a thumb in the direction of the school. “He’ll be getting here in a few minutes, just—just let him know that I’ll be skipping dinner today.” 

The idol smiled warmly at him. He understood that Yunho was more than aware of what they needed to discuss. He just hoped Wooyoung would cooperate. It gave him a small headache just thinking about it. 

“I think Mingi’s in the dance room.” San revealed, sitting back down to wait. “I’ll let Wooyoung know about our change of plans.” 

Yunho eyed the school in the distance, and without much regard to what he was doing, he took a step forward toward the building, impatience boiling in him. 

_Mingi_. 

“Thank you, San.” 

And with that, he left to reunite with the man he’d cared for, for years.

# ________

The dance room was half-lit, darkened besides the presence of life at the center of it, dancing without a care, so intently, to the music that blared in his ears. 

It was hot, overwhelmingly so, and as Mingi watched Wooyoung dance, he grew worried. He had expected to see Yunho, but the dancer was nowhere to be seen. 

His heart was beating fast, relentless as he tried to think of any other place he’d be. That was when an idea hit him. Wooyoung would know where Yunho was. He could ask him. 

And as if like clockwork, Wooyoung turned and met his eyes, surprise etched in his features. A moment ago he’d looked troubled, but now he appeared confused. 

Mingi hadn’t known Wooyoung would be there, though after a good second of thinking over the circumstances, he decided that maybe asking him about Yunho would be best. At least, before Mingi saw him again. 

Because he wanted to finally confess. Yunho needed to know how he felt, and how he made Mingi feel. He already had butterflies in his stomach just thinking about it, about seeing Yunho again. 

He gripped his black shirt, fisting his hands in the material in an attempt to slow down his rapid heart. “Hey.” 

Wooyoung took his airpods out, walking towards him in disbelief. Had he not believed San and he would return? 

Now that he thought about it, San hadn’t said anything about their date. He’d known San had confessed to Wooyoung but—the details remained a mystery. Though as he watched the young teacher, he guessed that maybe Wooyoung had yet to give a reply to San’s feelings. 

So, they were all in need of a good conversation with each other. It wasn’t just Mingi and Yunho who had to talk. San and Wooyoung also had to get things out in the open. 

“Mingi,” Wooyoung looked over his shoulder at the opened door, waiting for someone else to walk in. He was looking for San. “And . . . Sannie . . .?” 

“San was looking for you earlier, but,” Mingi stood in front of the door, halting him for a moment, “But can I talk to you for a second?” 

Wooyoung raised a brow. He was clearly hiding the fact that he wanted to see San. He wasn’t the best liar. Neither was San. “Sure.” 

Mingi clasped his hands, grateful, “Then . . . can you tell me something?” 

The teacher eyed him carefully, registering his attire and appearance. Mingi had almost forgotten that he’d left the photoshoot in the designer clothes and makeup he’d worn earlier. It was a major difference from what he usually wore during his stay. He hoped it was apparent that they wasted no time in getting there.

Wooyoung stooped to gather his bag, “What did you want to know?” 

“It’s about Yunho.” Mingi admitted. 

The man grinned at him, “I never would’ve guessed.” 

Mingi looked at him pleadingly, “Does he . . . does he hate me for leaving?” 

When he said that, Wooyoung’s eyes widened. Was it a bad question to ask? But Mingi wanted to know. He’d left so abruptly and without a proper goodbye. Yunho had done so much for Mingi. He felt as if he hadn’t done enough for him. 

Wooyoung placed his hand on Mingi’s shoulder, “He doesn’t hate you.” 

Mingi closed his eyes, content with the input, but also doubtful. “I didn’t get the chance to confess to him last time.” He said. His legs felt like they were going to give out. “I wanted to, but—that phone call disrupted us—” 

Wooyoung let go of his shoulder, eyes cast down. “That’s . . . I’m sorry that happened.” 

“No, it’s—it’s fine.” Mingi tried for a smile. “I’m going to tell him today.” 

His friend pulled at the strap of his bag, distracted but still listening, “Then go for it.” He replied, punching Mingi on the arm gently. “He’s gonna show up here eventually. To scold me for being late to dinner.” 

Mingi immediately felt alert at the news. Yunho was so close. Just a few more minutes and he could tell him. “Then, I’ll wait.” 

“And San . . .” Wooyoung asked. 

He stopped his distracting thoughts, waiting to see if he would say anything else. “What about him?” 

“Does he hate me?” Wooyoung looked just as desperate as Mingi had a minute ago. They must’ve been feeling the same way. 

This time, it was Mingi’s turn to say no, “Far from it.” 

Wooyoung shut his eyes as he exhaled, relieved, “I have to see for myself.” 

“You should.” Mingi told him. “He might be in the park, FYI.” 

The teacher brightened at the information. The serious face he’d had when Mingi arrived was long gone, replaced by hope that he would see the very person he wanted to talk to. Mingi knew that feeling all too well. 

“Wooyoung—” He disrupted the small bubble of happiness in the man, “San is—he’s stubborn.” 

Wooyoung stayed quiet, letting him speak. 

Mingi hadn’t known what drove him to say it, but he felt like he had to, “How should I explain it . . .?” He crossed his arms, “He puts others before himself, way too many times but—I think that’s part of the reason why he left.” 

“I . . .” Wooyoung processed his words. 

“I think he wanted to give you time to breathe.” He observed. 

San was always doing that. It infuriated Mingi at times, because the man needed to think about himself too. Being too selfless was difficult. 

His friend responded, “Thank you, for letting me know.” 

Mingi knew he needed to do more, but what else? They would resolve their problems soon. There was nothing he could do anymore. Now, he had to focus on himself and Yunho. “No problem.” 

“And . . . I guess you’ll wait here, then.” Wooyoung decided. “I’ll go to the park and meet him.” 

“Sounds good.” Mingi couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. He would see Yunho soon. 

This feeling, it was something he hadn’t felt in years. And even though rejection was highly possible, he didn’t mind it. Yunho had a say in the matter too. If they were to remain friends, then that would be fine. Mingi was just too determined to tell him how he felt. 

In the end, he had to reach out to find the happiness he wanted so badly in the weeks spent in that town. He simply had to be truthful to himself, and to Yunho too. 

He had to go for it. Otherwise he would regret it.

# ________

How could he go about this in a normal way? It was already tough trying to calm his nerves. He didn’t want to seem excited to see San again, but he also did not want to appear disinterested. He’d wanted to see him for so long, it was beginning to make him worry. 

When exactly was the first time he’d actually noticed he liked San? It must have been early on, though he had disregarded it completely. He was a fool for thinking he could escape it, and an even bigger fool to not confess upfront. 

He probably made San feel more anxious than he should’ve felt. If Mingi and he had left in such a hurry to get back, then he definitely wanted an answer from Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung though, was intimidated by the idea of it. He hated, _hated_ confessing to people, and not because he wasn’t romantic, but because he didn’t like how nervous he felt when he did it. And as impatient as he was, this was the one thing he could tolerate and push to the side. 

Wasn’t there some way for San to just see how much Wooyoung liked him? Why did he have to say it outright? Maybe he could simply kiss him, to shut him up. 

That was an idea. 

He shook his head at it as he drew his backpack strap higher up his shoulder, walking beneath the showering cherry blossom trees of the park. He’d arrived at the perfect time, when the sun was already on the hinges of setting, casting the entire place in an orange, hazy glow. 

He was still sweating from the dance room, but the beachy breeze was enough to cool him down. He only wished it could do the same for his nerves. 

Why did San have to say that he liked him? It made things more complicated. Wooyoung wanted him to be happy, to live his life now that the scandal had been cleared. He didn’t want to place another dating headline on the man. 

That was partly a lie though. He did want the best for him, but—

He stopped in his tracks once he reached the usual bench Yunho sat in. He was only a few paces away, though the sole presence of San leaning against the green wood made him freeze. 

San was back. He was there, right in front of him, and Wooyoung didn’t know what to do or say, so instead he relied on how he _felt_. And at that moment, he was overwhelmed with the feeling of relief. 

Wooyoung walked forward to drop his bag on the bench, alerting San at his arrival. When the idol turned to see him, he looked relieved too, as if he’d just caught sight of something he’d been arduously looking for. 

His breath hitched. “S-Sannie . . .” 

San abandoned his spot to stride in front of him, hair falling over his eye. He looked very different, and unlike the San he’d known for the past few weeks. But it was still him. Still the same boy who grew up in that small town. 

Wooyoung eyed his bleached hair, blonde and without any sign of roots. His transformation was recent. And he didn’t know if it was due to the fact that _Ateez_ would probably have another comeback, or if San wanted this new look. 

He wasn’t complaining. He only hoped San didn’t have to return that Dior shirt to his company. But this was all a bad time to even think of such things. 

“I’m back.” San disrupted his thoughts, thankfully. 

Wooyoung did a curt nod, “I can see that.” 

San stayed a fair distance away, giving Wooyoung space to breathe. It was much appreciated, but unnecessary. In fact, he would’ve preferred it if San held him, so that he wouldn’t have to look at Wooyoung’s nervous state. 

He didn’t, though. So Wooyoung had to hide his expression with his bangs. It did nothing to help. “Sannie . . . why . . .” 

San gazed at him expectantly, letting him gather his words. “Yes?” 

“Why are you . . . here . . .?” Wooyoung said, so low he was afraid San didn’t hear. 

The idol sighed as he stared at him. It wasn’t a sigh of frustration, it was more of like a way to tell him that the answer was obvious. “Will you believe me if I say that I wanted to see you again?” 

Wooyoung dared to look at him. From the intensity in his eyes, it was evident he wasn’t lying. San genuinely liked him, and Woooyoung had no clue what to do about it. 

“Oh . . .” 

“Wooyoung,” 

San outstretched a hand to him. He was asking for permission to hold him for the first time in days. Just a week, it’d been just a week and yet he felt like years had passed since he touched San. It was so overwhelming, he wanted to cry. And he would’ve, had he not been focusing on how San was waiting for him. 

He couldn’t let go of him this time if he did take his hand. Last time, he’d willingly departed from San so that they could organize their personal matters. This time, there was nothing stopping him from keeping San all to himself. 

Wooyoung must have looked disheartened and tired, because after a few seconds of complete silence, San took the initiative and brought him close, hugging him tightly. 

He didn’t know what else to do but give in, finally. _Finally_. 

San ran fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, hands running down his neck, wrapping around his waist, head knocking his softly, feeling so at _home_. Wooyoung tugged at San’s shirt, eyes closed against the other’s shoulder, relaxing. 

This time, they weren’t half-asleep on their bed, waking up earlier than one another so that they wouldn’t get caught embracing. This time, they weren’t in the dance room, collapsed on top of each other from accidentally tripping on their footwork. No, this time it was just them, just accepting everything. 

San cupped his face, thumb tracing his cheek. If he hadn’t noticed how much San missed him at first, then this ultimately assured him of that, “Wooyoung, I need an answer.” He brought their foreheads together, nose brushing his. “Please . . .” 

Wooyoung looked up at him, lost in the moment. 

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t even reply. He felt so at peace, so grateful, so at _home_ — 

Without giving it a second thought, he lifted himself up to reach San’s height, closing the distance to pull at his hair, breath ghosting his lips as he shut his eyes. He didn’t kiss him. Instead, he did something he should’ve done a long time ago.

Quietly, he confessed. 

“I like you too . . . Sannie . . .” 

San was taken aback at first, but smiled nonetheless, happier than he’d ever been at such simple words. 

Wooyoung had gathered his strength and believed in San. It hurt him, waiting for the other’s return, but he got what he deserved.

He was glad nothing could disrupt the moment this time. 

“I like you too.” He repeated, for good measure. 

Behind them, the sun finally set at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *go for the kiss wooyoung c'mon  
> *2 more . . . chapters . . . 
> 
>  
> 
> *comments r dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls lmk if there r any mistakes <3  
> *[twitter](https://twitter.com/halahalamp3)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drops this indulgent yungi fluff and runs away* aaaaAAHHHHHH

A sharp pain ran through his chest as he stared at the closed door before him. Of course he was afraid of any negative feedback, as well as a rejection. There was no doubt that they were both possibilities he could face if he talked to Mingi. 

He’d been through difficult situations before, so why did this one feel so painful? Well, it struck close to home. He liked Mingi, a lot, and he didn’t want to ruin what they had. Because what they had was amazing. What they had was all he needed—actually, that was a lie. He was beginning to feel selfish. More selfish than he’d felt in years. 

Yunho stepped back, wavering where he stood, unsure of whether or not to step into the dance room to confess to his longtime crush. At first, when he’d met Mingi, he couldn’t actually believe it. Still, he couldn’t digest the fact that he was friends with him, nor the fact that he was literally falling in love with the guy— 

He dropped his bag to the floor, pacing. The place was hot, sweltering, as he tried to think of what he was going to say once he got inside. Mingi must’ve been waiting for so long. He was probably wondering what was keeping Yunho from arriving. 

He didn’t have a proper excuse for his absence. Yunho simply didn’t have an idea of how to go about confessing. On the way there he’d been so sure of himself, but now . . . now he had drawn a blank. 

Mingi was _that_ important to him. He couldn’t fuck it up. It had to be a good confession, otherwise—

What? 

Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his fringe, walking straight up to the door. He could knock, that was a good idea. Or he could just open the door and yell outright, _‘Hey, I’ve been in love with you for years. Please be my boyfriend.’_

No. No that was a terrible idea. 

Yunho slumped, letting his forehead hit the cool wood of the door. He couldn’t even hear anything inside the dance room. Was Mingi even there? 

Carefully, he brought his ear to the door, listening. But the light exuding from the room assured him that yes, Mingi was waiting for him. 

It’d been days since they’d last seen each other. So why had it felt like years? This was ridiculous. He wanted to see Mingi _now_. 

Determined, he reached for the knob but was stopped. 

Before he could even think, the door slammed into his face.

# ________

“ _Fuck_ , I’m _so_ sorry,” Mingi was sitting across from him in the middle of the dance room floor, reaching into Yunho’s backpack to retrieve a small bag that contained a few bandages and cough drops. They were handy in class, especially since kids were prone to falling during lessons. 

Yunho still felt dazed, partly because Mingi had opened the door hard enough to hit Yunho squarely on the forehead, but also because Mingi was wearing a sleeveless black shirt. His blue-ish hair had disappeared, and instead had been replaced with a color that was almost chocolate brown, wet from sweat but also hair gel. 

The idol looked panicked as Yunho watched him dazedly. He couldn’t help it. “I can’t believe I did this on the day I came back to see you . . .” With hurried hands, he stripped off the protective tape from the bandage, “I’m _so_ sorry—” 

Yunho shook his head, but that alone made him feel even dizzier. “S’okay.” 

“Yunho you are literally bleeding.” Mingi scolded him. 

He was bleeding, but only a little. It was a small cut. Something that would heal within a few days. But Mingi was right, this _was_ a strange way to greet someone after such a long while. Yunho was the guilty one, honestly. 

Gingerly, Mingi brought the bandage to the wound, sticking it carefully to Yunho’s forehead with nimble fingers, brows creased so deeply, Yunho wanted to smooth them away. 

Mingi was handling him with such care, his heart hurt. All the while he was there quietly, sitting beside the idol, eyeing the way he took care of things so delicately and with precision—Yunho found himself realizing just how much he _missed_ him. 

Unaware, he leaned forward into Mingi’s touch, feeling the other’s fingers press softly into his forehead, brushing away his hair and dropping to hold his chin up. 

“Does it . . . hurt?” Mingi said lowly. 

The room had become so quiet in that moment. Everything was going by so quickly, too quickly for his taste. Yunho wanted to pause time. 

He checked the bandage on his wound, feeling the handiwork that Mingi had done, and he smiled. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

Mingi sighed in relief, letting him go to sit back, eyes shut in what was probably exhaustion. It was seriously hot in the room. He could barely breathe. 

“D-did you see Wooyoung on the way here?” Mingi said suddenly, after a long while of silence. 

Yunho waited a few seconds to respond, to remember the conversation he had with San previously. He wondered if Wooyoung had met with Mingi too. It wouldn’t have been surprising, considering how close they’d become as well. 

He shook his head, “ . . . no.” 

Mingi looked relieved again, sitting beside him, much closer this time. Something was preoccupying him, and Yunho didn’t know what it could’ve been that was on his mind. 

Well, he knew what was on his own mind. He was happy to see Mingi, in fact, he wanted nothing more than to return to old times, to their days of teaching and learning choreographies—but when he remembered how a single confession could take that away, he stopped himself from imagining any positive outcomes. 

“Mingi.” He said anyway, drawing the attention of the other. 

The idol turned to him, lower lip out in a pout. It was endearing. “What? Does it hurt?” He brushed a finger at the bandage, looking as concerned as ever. 

Yunho could only answer truthfully, “A little . . .” 

And without warning. Without any sort of way to warn him of the idol’s actions— 

Mingi propped himself up to reach Yunho’s height, holding his shoulders gently to reach close and place a small kiss to the bandaged cut. 

It felt more comfortable than he imagined. It wasn’t forced, nor was it awkward. Actually, it felt like everything Mingi was trying to say. Yunho missed him, of course, but now he knew that Mingi missed him too. 

“Does it hurt now?” Mingi said once they’d separated slightly. 

Yunho didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything. 

So instead of words, he used actions. Yunho took Mingi’s arm, bringing him close enough to place a hand behind his neck, lips crashing to give him a kiss.

# ________

Mingi was kissing Yunho. 

Mingi was kissing _Yunho_. 

They released after what felt like a solid minute of kissing. It was soft, softer than a kiss, but more than a mere brush of their lips. 

It was the first kiss he’d had in a long time. It was what he wanted, for years, and now it was finally happening. At the mere thought of it all, he became flustered. 

Surprised, he brought his hands to his mouth, feeling the echoes of that kiss linger on his lips. The traces of the other’s warmth was still there, reminding him of what they’d just done. 

“Yunho . . .” He wanted to confess. 

The man stopped him before he could say anything, “Mingi, I’m—” 

“Let’s be boyfriends.” Mingi cut him off abruptly. He hadn’t meant to, but the moment felt right, so . . . 

Yunho’s eyes were wide in shock, “W-wait—” 

“I know.” He assured Yunho of his suspicions. The kiss had said it all. This crush wasn’t one-sided. But still, it was important to let Yunho speak. 

As if reading his thoughts, Yunho replied, “I really like you.” He looked elsewhere, searching the room until his eyes landed on Mingi’s, determined, “I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” 

Mingi shook his head and grabbed Yunho by the shirt, bringing him in for a hug. The other slipped his hands around Mingi’s waist, interlocking perfectly. “No, Yunho, it’s okay.” He repeated it, “It’s okay.” Mingi tucked his nose into the man’s shoulder, closing his eyes, “Your timing is perfect.” 

Yunho turned to look at him, studying his face. Mingi could do nothing but lean against him, content with the turn of events. 

It was true that Yunho’s timing was perfect. The kiss had said it all too. Mingi’s philosophy had worked out perfectly this time around. A kiss was worth a thousand words. It was a symbolic thing to do. To him, kissing someone was like filling them up with love. 

Yunho had done just that. 

“Since when?” He asked. 

Mingi didn’t know how to answer that, so he chose, “It was a collection of moments, I think.” He admitted. “And you?” 

At that, Yunho suddenly looked away, appearing shy for the first time. “I-It was a long time ago . . . I guess . . .” 

They became silent, allowing the sounds of the empty school to preoccupy what they’d just done. But during their confessions, Mingi couldn’t help but think of how easy it was to simply say it outright. The repercussions were beginning to show, though he didn’t want them to ruin what was happening. 

Still, this was dangerous. Their lives were so different, and Mingi still had his career, and so did Yunho—what was going to happen to them? 

Mingi drew himself away from Yunho, but kept close. Yunho stayed, gazing at him like he was something incredible, until his eyes averted elsewhere. A dust of red settled on his ears. 

Ignoring his lingering thoughts, he asked, “How long ago did you like me?” 

Yunho opened his mouth to reply, though he closed it after some time in thought. “I—I can’t seem to recall.” 

He exhaled, relieved that he was correct. Yunho _did_ like him. The problem about the whole thing though, was the fact that Mingi liked him too. What were they going to do now? 

“I’m—” He started, “It might be difficult, for us—” 

Yunho took his hand. Mingi could do nothing but look back at him, unable to say the rest of what he was going to tell him. 

The man before him looked as he always did, as if Ming had never left that small town. Yunho smiled tiredly at him, appearing impatient at the realistic expectations surrounding what they both wanted. 

Mingi eyed the messy fringe of the dancer’s hair, and the bandage that was so sloppily but securely placed on his forehead. He looked so soft. Like _home_. 

Without realizing it—

He gave in to his desires.

# ________

Yunho knew what Mingi was trying to say. The idol was smart for keeping his career in mind. But he promised himself he wouldn’t regret anything in regards to this. 

Mingi tugged at Yunho’s shirt gently, “I forgot . . .” 

Yunho took that hand too. He wanted Mingi to look at him. “What?” 

His eyes traveled the length of his chest, and then to his neck. He was uncertain, and maybe even nervous. But once Yunho tightened his grip on their entwined hands, Mingi finally looked at him with a familiar pout, “Your birthday.” 

He blinked. “My birthday?” 

“I didn’t get you anything for your birthday.” Mingi said faintly. 

Yunho shook his head, “No—” 

“It matters to me.” The idol replied, leaning close. 

If he came in any closer, Yunho would have to do something about it. “Why are we talking about this now?” 

Mingi released their hands to place his on either side of Yunho. Yunho could do nothing but sit back, “If I’m your boyfriend now, then I need to give you a present for your birthday.” 

Yunho sighed. The word ‘boyfriend’ must’ve been too much for him to handle. “No need.” 

Mingi brought himself closer, which meant that Yunho had to lean backwards even more. They would practically be on the floor in a second. “Why?” 

It was obvious. But the idol probably hadn’t known, or maybe he just hadn’t seen what Yunho wanted in the first place. 

It was so obvious to everyone else. Why had Mingi never taken notice of it? The amount of time it took for them to get to where they were now was enough to remind him that words alone weren’t helpful. 

He took Mingi by the back of his neck for the second time, dragging him to the dance room floor with him. The younger towered over him as Yunho brushed his hand up to latch at the wavy, chocolate brown hair. 

“You.” Was all Yunho said. 

Mingi gave him a questioning look. “What about me?” 

“For my birthday.” He revealed, “I want you.” 

The other’s eyes widened in response. 

“And this—” Yunho added, closing the distance to brush their lips together. 

Mingi’s eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in to reciprocate the light kiss. Well, with how Mingi was grabbing onto him, it was impossible not to. 

Yunho continued, happily. The dance room was hot, but it was still his favorite place, with his most favorite person, his _best friend_. What more could he want? 

He was happy. Too happy. 

All was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This week has been so hectic with school, I needed to write indulgent yungi fluff...OTL  
> *Just 1 more chapter…...o_O
> 
> *comments r dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls lmk if there r any mistakes <3  
> *[twitter](https://twitter.com/halahalamp3)


	20. Chapter 20

The town was a lot more quiet with the absence of the two individuals who’d just arrived and left. An emptiness, actually, seemed to fill the small village as the sun completely disappeared behind the cloud coverage in the hot night. It wasn’t great, but it was also a chance for him to take a deep breath. 

He felt like he’d had way too many of those, though. He wanted things to begin. And they were, beginning, but at a snail’s pace. Just when would he see San again anyway? 

Well, he promised he’d be back in the morning, or even earlier if he could. Those two had literally left a photoshoot and stolen their manager’s car just to get back here to confess. It wasn’t shocking, honestly, Wooyoung hadn’t expected anything else from them. Still, it was risky, and he was worried over the fact that maybe their agency would be angry enough to keep them in Seoul. 

It scared him, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to think too much about that city, especially since the rumors had finally been dissipating. 

He reveled in that. They could start their lives anew, without having the burden of such gossip on their shoulders. Mingi and Yunho could be happy, and San and he could . . . 

Wooyoung covered his eyes as he thought over what he’d said to San earlier in the day. Just thinking about it made him cringe. He wasn’t a great confessor, and it was obvious at that time, but—at least he had said it aloud, after so many weeks of bottling it in. 

He wondered what his parents would think; about dating an idol. His mother would probably be over the moon. And his friends? Here in the town and in Seoul? He was excited to start this relationship, though he wasn’t prepared for all the work he’d have to deal with in regards to Dispatch. 

Quietly, he thought over these things as the sounds of the restaurant around him continued to muddle his brain. It was well into the night already. He’d sent off San a few hours ago, just a little after he’d confessed. 

Yunho was sitting across from him, staring out the window dreamily, eyes glazed with the events that had happened earlier in the day. Wooyoung hadn’t known exactly what went down with those two. But it was evident what they’d done when he saw how uneager Mingi was to leave them again. 

They basically had to strap him into the car passenger seat for them to finally leave. Yunho didn’t look too happy to depart from him either. Wooyoung could relate. 

Also, what was up with that blonde hair? 

Now that Wooyoung had time to think over San’s appearance, he couldn’t help but grow red. Blonde was something he’d never anticipated to see in the idol. Truthfully, it looked good. Really, _good_. 

Yunho pushed a cold bottle of soju against his arm, alerting him to reality. He really should’ve been eating but . . . 

“They’ll be back tomorrow.” His friend assured him. It looked like Yunho was saying that more for himself. 

Wooyoung gave him a slight nod. 

He wasn’t hungry, nor did he want to drink. He wanted a clear mind to think back on their confessions, to make sure that all of it had been real. 

_San_. 

Why were they always so inconveniently separated? He wanted to see San. But then again, the universe was always tricky when it came to them. 

“The party’s tomorrow.” Wooyoung reminded him. 

Yunho drank from his glass, “The anniversary party?” 

“Yeah . . .” He drifted off from the conversation to stare at the condensation on his own glass. He’d nearly forgotten that San’s parents were going to have a small get-together for their anniversary in the house tomorrow. It was perfect timing for them. 

Yunho watched him without saying a word. They both knew what the other was thinking. Nothing needed to be said aloud. “Then, I’ll be there.” 

Wooyoung gave him a faint smile. Tired. 

By this time tomorrow, all would be well.

# ________

He dreamt of the first time he’d met San. 

It must’ve been weeks since that had happened. He could remember just how much he despised him. Really, it was rather embarrassing how prejudiced he was against him. But at the time he literally believed San was a bad person. 

Having articles that explicitly stated he was cheating in a relationship; none of that helped Wooyoung's perspective of him. Thinking back, it was probably hard on San, having his dance partner and roommate hate him that much. 

He felt sorry, sorry for not having the faith he should’ve had from the beginning. Everyone had believed him. Everyone but Wooyoung. 

But now he had the time to let San know that it wasn’t his fault. San didn’t have to feel guilty over something he couldn’t control. Wooyoung would be strong with him. 

_It’s going to be tough,_ He thought, as his eyes flitted open to the harsh morning sun streaming in through his window. He’d left it open last night because it invited in a nice breeze but—now the summer heat was coming in quickly. He needed to shut it before the room became too hot. 

He was tired though, and the warm bed wasn’t helping either. Neither was the fact that something was latching lightly onto his arm—

Wait. 

His eyes travelled to the sleeping individual across from him, holding his arm gently, languidly in his sleep, as he breathed in and out peacefully, dreaming deeply and appearing as tired as he looked. 

Wooyoung didn’t know what to do or say as he stared on, fully awake now at the presence of the very person he’d been dreaming of only moments ago. 

_Choi San_. 

He didn’t dare move. Instead, he watched the other for a solid minute before averting his eyes, flustered by the sudden appearance of the man. 

When had he arrived? During the night? Just now? Had Wooyoung been so deeply asleep that he hadn’t noticed San’s arrival? 

Carefully, he extracted himself from the man’s hold but—when he did, San stirred in his sleep, turning to latch onto Wooyoung’s arm once more. His fingers were warm, nimble, as they pressed into his skin delicately. 

Wooyound exhaled, happy but still aware of how hot the room was becoming. They needed to wake up and drink water before they developed fevers in the summer heat. 

Outstretching his hand, he brushed the blonde locks away from San’s eyes, revealing his familiar face. He was handsome, and Wooyoung didn’t know what to do with himself about that fact. So, he simply said, 

“San . . . Sannie . . . wake up . . .” 

The idol hadn’t heard him. Well, Wooyoung was speaking softly, barely above a whisper. For some reason, he believed that was loud enough. It was so quiet in the room. 

He rubbed a thumb over the man’s cheek, “Choi San.” 

At that, the other finally opened his eyes just a little, to witness who’d called his full name. They were awake. It wasn’t the first time they’d woken up like this. 

Wooyoung raised a brow at him, curious to see if he would do anything. 

He did. “Woo . . .” 

For a second there, he couldn’t reply. What was this exactly? What was this situation? Wooyoung wanted to hide himself underneath the covers. He felt like he was growing red from the simple nickname. 

Slowly, he extracted himself from the man. He was elated that he was back, though it seemed as if he was never going to get used to . . . _this_. 

Wooyoung chose to lean on his arm. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of being so close to San was nerve-wracking. Why? 

Considering what had occurred, he wasn’t surprised to find that he was nervous being near the idol. He was going to kiss him yesterday. And he almost did, had he not stopped himself. At the time, the moment really had carried him away. 

“When did you get here?” He said lowly, ignoring his distracting thoughts. 

San appeared relieved to see Wooyoung after such a short amount of time. If he hadn’t known, Wooyoung would’ve assumed they’d been separated for years. 

“A few hours ago.” He said, voice hoarse from just waking up. “I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“You should’ve.” Wooyoung said under his breath. 

San smiled at him, hair a mess. Before, Wooyoung hadn’t taken full notice of how San looked in the morning, but now—now he could look all he wanted. They were . . . they were _boyfriends_. 

He cleared his throat, “San, we should get ready.” 

The sleepy man merely groaned at the request. It must’ve been around 8 in the morning, far too early for a weekend. But the party was today, therefore San’s mother was probably going to come and wake them up. 

“A little longer—” San began, but then stopped to swipe a finger at the corner of Wooyoung’s lip, softly pressing the skin, “Drool.” 

Wooyoung could do nothing but lay there, surprised at the sudden action. San had gotten closer, to examine Wooyoung. “I—I just woke up . . .” _Of course I have drool._

San brought his hand up to reach into Wooyoung’s bedhead, cupping the side of his face. It was intimate, too intimate. And they were on the same bed too, too close to one another. He didn’t know what to do. 

“Wooyoung,” San said quietly. 

Wooyoung let his head rest on the pillow below them, fingers grasping at the hem of San’s shirt. They could kiss. Now. 

He would’ve enjoyed it, actually, if they decided to attempt it then and there. San was waiting for him to do anything, to say anything. 

His eyes flickered to the idol’s lips, pink but dry. A kiss would make them redder, tinted like the lip tint he was wearing yesterday. 

Wooyoung closed his eyes, mouth parting open, ready. He could feel San’s hands grip the pillow, nose brushing his until—

The bedroom door opened with a small creak, alerting them in time to the presence of his landlord smiling knowingly at them. She eyed them carefully before departing from the doorway, calling out from the hallway, and then into the kitchen, “Breakfast is ready~ Time to get up—!” Her voice carried throughout the house, loud enough for them to hear. 

San was still on top of Wooyoung as they stared at the empty hallway, disbelief on their faces. Wooyoung stayed frozen, whilst San released his hold and stepped away from the bed, fingers on his temples. 

Their timing was less than perfect. 

“W-We should get ready.” San concluded. 

Wooyoung agreed. “Yeah . . .” 

A kiss would have to come later.

# ________

The night air was chillier than he originally anticipated. It must have been the coldest night of the beginning of summer so far. And the cloud coverage wasn’t helping either. It looked like it was going to rain. 

Seoul was going to have terrible weather when he returned. Yeosang was loathing the drive, but he was excited to finally see—

He leaned against the table full of deserts as he watched Choi San walk up to him, face illuminated in a happy grin. Wooyoung and he had probably made up and confessed _finally_. Those two were the most stubborn people he’d ever met. But they were his good friends, his _best_ friends. He could put up with it. 

San stood beside him, staring at the festivities before them. It was a small party, but the entire village was there, celebrating what seemed more like a grand birthday party than a small anniversary get-together. 

It was nice seeing everyone, despite how packed the small house was. He missed this. The small town environment. This was all fleeting, though. He had to go back to the city soon. 

“So you two are dating now?” Yeosang said, just when San took a swig of his drink. 

The younger choked, searching for his words after such a blunt question, “H-How did you know—?” 

He shrugged, taking a sip of his own drink. “It’s written all over your face.” 

San looked at himself in the reflection of his glass, “ . . . is it?” 

Yeosang turned to meet his eyes, sending him a reassuring smirk. If San and Wooyoung were together, then that ultimately meant Mingi confessed to Yunho too. Things were unfolding nicely. It almost seemed like his job here was nearly done. “Things worked out perfectly in our favor.” 

It took San a couple of seconds to register what he’d just said. After what felt like a while, he narrowed his eyes at him, “ _Our_ favor?” 

“It was clearly obvious that you two would end up together sooner or later.” Yeosang replied, “I just had to push you two in the right direction.” 

“You made us jealous on purpose.” San stated. “But why do I feel as if someone else was involved in this?” 

Yeosang returned to stare at the crowd, avoiding the question directed at him. It was true, there was someone else who’d helped a lot in regards to this story. 

But now that the two couples were together, it was time to go back to his own. He wasn’t going to be a simple wingman, no—he had a story too. 

“And Wooyoung?” Yeosang watched as San grew moody at the fact that he dodged the question. “And Mingi? Where are they?” 

San exhaled, sitting back on the table. This was a time to relax. San could figure out who the second mastermind was later. “Mingi, is obviously with Yunho, somewhere.” His eyes searched the partygoers. “Where, I don’t exactly know.” He said, “And Wooyoung . . .” When he uttered the name, his voice grew lower. “I saw him just now but—” 

Yeosang nudged him in the ribs, “San.” 

The idol set his glass down, “What?” 

He jutted a thumb in the direction of the back porch, drink swooshing in his hand as he did so. When San got the gist as to where the teacher would be, he nodded. 

“Tell him that I said goodbye, for now.” Yeosang said. 

San stopped in his tracks, “Where are you going?” 

“Back to Seoul.” He answered, failing to hide his impatience over his departure. “KQ Entertainment, actually.” 

He _was_ impatient to get back. There was someone waiting for him to return. And Yeosang couldn’t wait to tell him about the two new happy couples. 

“Home.” He told San. 

Back home, to his boyfriend.

# ________

The party had calmed down after a few hours of celebrating. The elders stayed inside, clinging to the remnants of the warm summer air whilst the children played out in the front, causing havoc. 

Everyone else had either left or hung around the house, which meant that the only remaining empty place was the backyard. It was a small part of the property, with herbs growing in every nook and with the gazebo taking most of the room. It was the perfect place to retreat after much socializing at the party. 

Wooyoung was happy to attain some alone time, so that he could gather his wits before entering the festivities again. Being a social butterfly was tiring work, after all. 

But as he made his way through the small backyard, he was reminded of the day that Choi San had asked him to teach him how to waltz. It was for this specific day, and thus it was serendipitous that he was there again, beneath the shade of the gazebo, gazing out at the same horizon he’d seen as they danced. 

He thought that all would be well after he’d confessed, but it was still so hard mustering up the courage to begin a new relationship. They were taking it slow. That was good. Slow was good, for now. 

Also, that almost-kiss that had happened in the morning . . . 

Unaware, he brought a hand to his lips, remembering just how close San had gotten. The mere memory made his stomach flutter with butterflies. 

If he was feeling this way about an almost-kiss, then—what was it going to be like when they actually did? 

He bit his lip, contemplating. 

_When will he kiss me?_

“Wooyoung.” San’s voice called out to him from behind. 

The moment Wooyoung turned to see him, their eyes met. Of course San was there. Always when Wooyoung needed him the most. 

“San . . .” His voice trailed off.

# ________

“San . . .” Wooyoung said. 

San walked up the small steps of the gazebo to stand in front of the teacher, eyes looking down into his. The round, familiar brown eyes he’d grown to admire in the months they’d known each other. 

It was in that exact location when he began realizing just how much he cared about Wooyoung. After so many days of keeping it a secret, everything was now in the open. He could reach out, without hesitation. 

And he did just that. His hands reached out to Wooyoung, offering him his hand, “May I have this dance?” 

Wooyoung blinked, confused for a moment before nodding and taking his hand, “Of course.” 

San followed the instructions Wooyoung had told him when they waltzed before. It felt like such a long time had passed since then. Their short separation hadn’t helped either. That day was so far, but he could remember it clearly. 

His left hand travelled the length of Wooyoung’s waist, latching onto it firmly as his other hand interlocked their fingers together. Again, he could see the difference in their heights. 

For a few minutes, they stayed in that position, listening to the muffled music from inside the house. A few songs came and went. He even recognized some of them as his own. 

Wooyoung detached himself slightly to look at San, “I have a question.” 

San waited, “Anything.” 

“Are you sure . . . about this?” Wooyoung asked, appearing genuinely concerned. “You just got out of a scandal, Sannie—” 

He shook his head, “I’ve never been more sure in my life.” 

Wooyoung grew moody at that. San was grateful for his concerns, but he was done with his previous worries. He didn’t want anything to limit him anymore. For once in a long while, he felt free, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

“Unless . . . unless you don't—” He started. 

His partner shook his head too, “Sannie, no . . . I . . .” He responded in a smaller voice, “I do . . .” 

They continued to dance as silence enveloped them soon after. 

There was much to do, much to say. But this was nice. Simply dancing. To be honest, the situation made him recall something his father once told him. 

_A singer is also a person._ He’d said. _Stay rooted, stick to the basics. Be a good person, no matter what._

The simple act of dancing reminded him that he wasn’t just an idol. He was a person who deserved happiness. And after what he’d been through with the scandal, he realized that he came out much stronger and that the experience taught him a lot, even though it hurt him greatly. 

Coming back to his hometown, to the roots of his background, was probably the best decision he’d made amidst such chaos. Home reminded him of everything that was important and essential. It was also the place where he met Wooyoung. 

He was eternally grateful for that. 

As Wooyoung kept his eyes elsewhere, San took the chance to study every detail about him. He hadn’t seen him in such a long while, his sole presence was rejuvenating. 

“What?” Wooyoung must’ve caught him staring. 

San locked his gaze elsewhere, smiling to himself. “Nothing.” 

Wooyoung stared at him, still suspicious at how quiet he was. It wasn’t unusual. Sometimes they were quiet, but not all the time. They bickered, constantly. It was the norm in their daily lives. 

“Keep a straight posture when you waltz.” Wooyoung instructed him, leading the dance despite San’s position. “And remember your steps.” 

San couldn’t help but be amused by the memory of his first dance lesson with Wooyoung. What had he said back then? Back when Wooyoung had placed a hand to San’s heart? 

As they waltzed, and as Wooyoung observed their footwork, San took the man’s chin and raised it so that they could meet eye to eye. 

Wooyoung paused to look at him, “Is something wrong?” 

Yes, there was something wrong. San had nearly forgotten an important part of the dance. “Have I touched all the right places?” 

His partner sent him a small smile, recognizing his words of advice. “Not yet.” 

Wooyoung leaned forward, eyes closing. 

Just like this morning, when they were about to kiss, Wooyoung was waiting for him. San couldn’t stop himself this time. Because this time . . . all was finally well. 

He leaned forward, meeting Wooyoung’s lips, softly, slowly. 

It wasn’t something he planned from the beginning, but it was something he’d been wanting to do for a while. After weeks, he took up the opportunity to kiss that pouty mouth. It was _amazing_. 

Wooyoung placed his hands on either side of San’s face, holding him closely as San encircled his arms around the teacher’s waist, bringing them flush against one another. 

The chaste kiss was fleeting, but like everything else, it felt longer than it actually was. So much so, that when Wooyoung departed from their embrace, San brought him closer, to give him one more light kiss that lingered. 

He couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips when Wooyoung released himself from San. Breathless, he said, “Now you have.” 

San tilted his head, “Pardon?” 

Wooyoung smiled faintly at him. 

He wanted to kiss him again. And he would, later. 

For now, this was enough. 

“You’ve touched all the right places, Sannie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * the end :) 
> 
> *so...who's yeosang's bf? :O  
> *this fic was inspired by [this au.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859213) I read it years ago and was always intrigued by the idea of it, and so I decided to write it with woosan and yungi.  
> *this [other fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5228318) has a quotation that says, _"They could end dancing around each other and just dance together instead."_ — and it was honestly a big inspiration for All The (Right) Places.  
> *also, i made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4OlWp5e7CSPmZfxEOAdhdW) of songs that inspired me whilst i wrote this story ^^  
> *comments r dearly appreciated <3  
> *pls lmk if there r any mistakes <3  
> *[Twitter](https://twitter.com/halahalamp3)
> 
> *thank u so much everyone for reading!! i didn't expect it to be such a long project, but this story really helped me get through a lot of difficult situations throughout the year. thank u for leaving such kind words and feedback!! :)


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